


Not All Treasure is Silver and Gold

by Samking



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Smaug, Banishment, F/M, Goldsickness, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samking/pseuds/Samking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Erebor never fell. Thror's goldsickness is getting worse by the year, and when Thorin tries to speak out against one of his grandfather's more tyrannical decisions (of which he has been making more and more as his sanity erodes)he is publicly shamed by the cutting of his beard and cast out, with a vague promise that if he 'redeems himself' in Thror's eyes he will be able to return to Erebor.<br/>Thorin goes into exile and spends years as a wandering smith and itinerant labourer until he finds his way to the Shire and meets Bilbo Baggins. They have a romance and settle together, and for a little while Thorin is able to find a degree of happiness, for all that he sorely misses Erebor and his family.<br/>Eventually, however, a group of dwarves arrive in the Shire, led by Gandalf the Grey, in search of their missing prince, as Frerin, the new king, is every bit as gold-mad as his predecessor, if not worse. They are, therefore, rather surprised to find their missing prince working as a blacksmith in a place like the Shire.<br/>This is my first prompt fill, taken from livejournal hobbit prompts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

 

 

Thorin loved Erebor more than he loved gold or diamonds or any of the other jewels that were found under the earth of their lovely mountain. He loved the dwarves who lived under the mountain, the great halls where the markets were held, that were filled with life and noise that echoed off the tall ceilings , the ancient feeling the city under the mountain gave off, it actually wasn’t as old as many of the other dwarven strongholds in Middle Earth, but to Thorin who was only just reached a century the old walls seemed old. He even held a fondness for the secret tunnels that once were old mining tunnels that were abandoned for one reason or another. Those tunnels had been his and his brother Frerin’s favorite place to play as young children; they had been perfect for two boys who knew nothing about the world who just wanted to get away from being princes. The days of being carefree dwarven princes though was a long time ago, and things were very different now. The bustling markets from Thorin’s childhood weren’t so busy at least not with shopkeepers and customers. As a child, Thorin, had never seen a homeless dwarf before, sure he’d seen homeless men in the human city of Dale a few times, but he had never seen a homeless dwarf in Erebor. Now the streets were lined with them, begging for a few coins so they could buy bread for their starving children, all the while Erebor’s coffers filled with even more gold. Most of Erebor’s nobles turned a blind eye to it, mumbling to themselves that it was the people of Erebor who brought this upon themselves somehow. Thorin knew the truth, as much as it pained Thorin to say it, he knew the person who was responsible for this epidemic of poverty, his grandfather the king, Thrór. He demanded more gold fill their coffers claiming there was nowhere near enough, that the lords of the Iron Hills had much more than Erebor and could easily overwhelm them if they were allowed. Thorin didn’t believe all the rubbish his grandfather spouted, but most of the noble dwarves were convinced Thrór was right, or didn’t care that he was wrong. Things had been a little better when Thorin’s father Thráin had still been alive, but he had died seven years ago in an orc raid that had attacked a dwarven caravan going to Mirkwood, for whatever reason Thrór had listened to Thráin. Now days Thrór spent most of this time in the royal treasury that no one but him was allowed to enter, Thorin had no idea what his grandfather actually did, but he was left to run the day to day proceedings of Erebor in his stead, he couldn’t really do anything though without the king’s signature and his grandfather had refused to sign all proclamations of lowering the taxes Thorin had thrown at him no matter how cleverly worded or disguised.

“Thorin, Thorin,” Thorin turned his head towards where his sister’s calls were coming from. His sister, Dís, was very beautiful by dwarf standards, dark brown hair that matched his own cascaded down her back. Some of it was pulled back with intricate braids to keep it out of her face, weaved into those braids were her ceremonial ones: the ones that represented her status as a member of the line of Durin, the first dwarf in existence and their ancestor, the one that represented that she was now an adult (as much as it pained him to think of her as an adult and not as the little darrowdam always chasing after him as children), and the one that represented that she was married unlike her two brothers. Thorin was quite fond of her husband Víli, who had been one of his shield brothers during past skirmishes against the orcs that seemed to be running rampant across the north. Dís was the youngest child of Thráin and his only daughter, and at the moment she was heavy with child, her first child, this child would be Thorin’s heir. The pregnancy was seen as blessing on the line of Durin, that it would continue to endure. Only one out of three was born a darrowdam, and each generation it seemed fewer and fewer dwarflings were born.

“Dís, you should not be out here.” Thorin said quietly, looking around the market to see if his grandfather’s guards were paying any attention to the two of them. Guards in the marketplace, it had once been uncommon to see them, now they were everywhere. Thrór had ordered that his granddaughter not leave the royal apartments while she was with child in fear that someone might try to do the line of Durin harm, much to his wild and untamable sister’s dismay. She did not follow orders well, and hardly feared repercussions for her actions as Thrór would not risk the baby’s safety. But Thorin feared for what their grandfather might do to her after the baby was born, so like always he protected his sister from their grandfather’s wrath just as he had always done with his younger siblings. They were lucky that none of the guards were paying that much attention to anything in the market today, but Dís wrapped her headscarf a little closer to her face to obscure it just in case.

“Look, Thorin, a toy maker.” She said, she pointed to a nearby stall where a black haired dwarf was carving a piece of wood that had probably come from a pile of fire wood. Dís didn’t even hesitate to pull her older brother to the stall and Thorin silent cursed her brashness, they would get caught if she wasn’t careful and they needed to go back to the royal apartments before her presence was missed. “I want to buy a toy for the baby.”

“Good mor’n,” the dwarf said gruffly setting aside his whittling and looked around as if he had lost something before he started to mutter.

“Isn’t this cute?” Dís picked up a carving of what looked like a house built into a hill. “It’s a doll house isn’t it?” the black haired dwarf nodded. “Though I’ve never seen a house as such, what inspired you?”

“The hobb’ts, they live in the west towards Ered Lu’n.” The dwarf explained, “I see th’m every time I travel between here and there.” Thorin snorted, he’d heard stories of creatures known as hobbits but had never actually seen one in person, they were supposedly short creatures, shorter than dwarves and they wore no shoes, and waddled about as they walked because they ate so much. Peaceful folk, enjoying the fruits of laboring the earth, never leaving the area in which they were born. It didn’t sound like such a bad way of living sometimes, especially when he was frustrated with his grandfather and watching his people suffer so much, but he couldn’t abandon Erebor to run off into the blue in search of peace.

“Hiya,” Thorin heard from underneath him, a little face sticking out from underneath the tablecloth, a dwarfling dark haired and covered in freckles. The young one wore a funny hat on top of his head and had a wide smile on his face. “Shhh, don’t tell Bifur we’re here.” We? Thorin could only see one; another little face popped out beside the black haired one, this one had reddish colored hair and was slightly younger than the first one. “He’ll put us to work.” Thorin nodded, remembering fondly the many times he and Frerin had snuck away from Balin and the many tutors their father had hired to play in the tunnels.

“Look at this, Thorin,” Dís said picking up a carving of a dwarf guard. “Look at the detail.” Thorin couldn’t admit to have ever have seeing such detailed work on a toy before, this kind of details went things made for the king not for children’s toys. “Do you do commissions?” She turned to Thorin, “I was thinking that the baby could have a dwarf guard that looked like you and Víli, you two are my brave soldiers.” Thorin rolled his eyes at his sister’s antics, sometimes it was she who treated him like a child and not the other way around.

“Y’s,” The dark haired dwarf, that Thorin assumed to be Bifur according to the young dwarfling under the table, nodded. “I’ll need a reference.”

“I’ll have one brought you within the hour.” Dís said, “And I’ll buy the hobbit hole as well.” The dwarf nodded as she handed over the amount of gold and picked up the little house carrying it under her arm as they walked away. Thorin was insistent that she go back to the royal apartments, she needed to rest, the healer had ordered her not do strenuous activates or she could lose the baby.

“Look Bofur, she’s going to have a baby.” A little voice said from beside Thorin, he looked over to see the brown haired hat wearing dwarfling and his brother walking beside them. The redhead looked to be in awe seeing how big Dís stomach was while the older dwarfling watched his brother with mild amusement. “Are you two married?”

“No, this is my brother, little one.” Dís explained stopping to bend down and talk to the two dwarflings. “My husband is at work.”

“Is he a miner?” the red head dwarfling asked, “Bifur says we have to stay away from the mines because they are dangerous, but he goes down there all the time. He says he must so we can eat.” Dís nodded sadly, it was the sad truth now that everyone knew, once being a miner was a well-paid job that every common dwarf was willing to do, digging in the earth and smithing what was found was a dwarf’s calling after all, the reason Mahal made them. But the mines had gotten dangerous, even more dangerous than normal due to budget cuts and lack of funds and very few dwarves were willing to risk their necks for the now meager wages they were receiving, and those that did were usually the most desperate.

“No, my husband Víli is a consultant of sorts.” Dís explained. “Do your parents work in the mines too?”

“Our parents are dead,” the older one said quite suddenly, his smile no longer existed on his face and Thorin saw a boy weary of life already, he was much too young to be this weary. “Da died in a mining accident, Ma died shortly later.”

“Bifur’s all we got left.” The other one explained, “He’s our cousin.” Thorin nodded, he could see the family resemblance in the three of them, no doubt they were related.

“Come on Bombur, let’s go play hide-n-seek.” Thorin and Dís watched the two boys leave, weaving and dodging their way through the market around the busy shoppers who would not hesitate to throw insults as two young boys such as those two who were wild from lack of supervision and a dislike of the system. Hell, Thorin hated the system and he would one day be the system, he would change the system. When he became king the first thing he was going to do was to open the coffers and pay every dwarf family a hundred gold pieces, he would end this epidemic, and he would not circum the gold sickness that now befell his grandfather. It hadn’t been a fast descent, his grandfather had slowly been consumed by the madness. Thorin couldn’t say exactly when it had started, maybe even before he had been born, but it got worse as the years went on, and the people got poorer and hungrier. One day they would rebel, they would have had enough of this oppression they had and they would revolt, Thorin could only hope that the people of Erebor could just wait out a little longer until he was old enough to take the throne.

“I hate being pregnant.” Dís complained as they walked to the royal apartments, “The kid won’t stop kicking me.” Thorin laughed and watched as a tiny foot stuck out of his mother’s stomach, being visible even through the heavy dres Dís wore, only to disappear again.

“Can I- can I feel him?” Thorin asked hesitantly, children had never been something Thorin had ever been interested in but watching his sister and her pregnancy he had begun to realize how much of a miracle the whole process was. Dís nodded and Thorin found himself in an empty passageway touching his sister’s stomach feeling the kicks of a young dwarf who would soon join them in the world. It was the most unusual sensation, being kicked without really seeing what was kicking you. “Hello, little one, I’m your uncle.” Dís smiled at him and Thorin removed his hand clearing his throat and taking his sister’s arm again as they continued on their way to the royal apartments.

“V́íli’s jealous, he thinks that the child will like you more than him.” Dís said, chuckling. “I think you’re going to make an excellent uncle though.”

“Víli’s right to be jealous, I can lavish it with presents and not have to hold back because I’m his uncle and I don’t have to parent him when he’s bad.” Thorin said matter of factly, he kind of liked the idea of being an uncle.

“Sure you don’t want kids of your own?”

“You know I will never have kids, your son will be my heir.” Thorin had been a young lad when he realized that females no matter how beautiful they may seem, held no appeal for him. If he hadn’t had Dís to have an heir for him he would have had to pick at least one female consort to try for an heir with whether he wanted to or not, the Line of Durin had to continue. With his sister married and already expecting her first child, Thorin felt the pressure he had been getting from other nobles subtly going away, they had their heir, and they were appeased for now. Thrór hadn’t been pleased when Thorin told him that he sire children, he had told Thorin at the time that it made him less of a man, and at the time it had crushed him to hear such harsh words from his beloved grandfather, it was the beginning of the end of their relationship. Homosexuality wasn’t uncommon among dwarves since there were so few women, it was a normal part of their society, he hadn’t understood then why his grandfather had such an issue with it, and he still didn’t understand now.

“Will you ever get married?” his sister pressed, Thorin stopped himself from releasing an irritated growl, he knew his sister just wanted him to be happy, but he hadn’t even found anyone that had caught his eye yet.

“Do you give Frerin the same treatment or do you save it all for you eldest brother?” Thorin growled playfully. Dís smiled innocently at him and kept on walking till they reached her and Vili’s apartment.

“Frerin will never get married, not to anything besides his books at any rate.” Dís said before entering her home and shutting the door behind her leaving Thorin outside standing at a beautifully carved brown door that had been a wedding present from one of the noblemen. She was right about their brother, Frerin would never get married, he found little pleasure in company outside of that of his siblings and stuck mostly to Erebor’s massive library. It was a good thing his blond brother would never be king, he had no idea how to interact with other people. He hadn’t been this bad as a child, sure he read, but so had Thorin back then. Frerin was someone to go to when one needed advice on the history or the culture of a race but not about people, as he had grown older Frerin had gradually pulled away from society for reasons unknown to Thorin.

 

~ Erebor ~

“All rise for the king!” the herald proclaimed as Thrór sat down on his throne, Thorin stood beside him where his father had once stood when he had been Thrór’s heir. A dwarf slightly older than Thorin was in chains on the court floor staring helplessly up at the king and his heir for mercy, he had been caught stealing bread for his family and Thrór wished to make an example of him.

“Read the charges!” Thrór shouted for the whole court to hear. In the nobles gallery sat almost all the nobles in Erebor, it was required that they attend, even Dís who was due with her baby in a month had to attend. She sat beside her husband Víli, the tall blond dwarf who had won over his sister’s heart after many years of trying to woo her. She was still very much in love with him even after almost five years of marriage and Thorin wished for them to always be this happy.

“Vala, son of Nala was caught stealing the bread from the baker Rori.” The herald proclaimed again reading from a long scroll of names of people accused of crimes in the past week. If his grandfather kept having people arrested in this manner there would be no more room in the dungeons of Erebor nor would there be any more people on the streets of Erebor.

“Cut off his left hand.” Thrór said waving his hand absentmindedly as if the whole proceedings bored him. The young dwarf cried out in agony and began to plead at the top of his lungs for mercy.

“You can’t do this, Grandfather,” Thorin protested. “How will he work and earn a livelihood if he is missing his hand? He can’t work in the mines or carve and craft gold and silver, his family will starve.”

“Thorin,” Thrór growled. “You are an embarrassment to the line of Durin with your words of mercy. How will the people obey the laws of this city if we show leniency for every crime committed?” Thorin did not even try to dodge the hand that slapped his cheeks for his words. “One more time Thorin, and you will never embarrass me ever again.” Thorin nodded biting back the tears that threatened to fall, and ignoring the heat that seemed to radiate from his cheeks. What had his grandfather meant by his threat? Would he kill him if he spoke out once more? Should he fear for his life? Or would his tongue be cut out, that was the normal charge now for speaking out against the king. So much for freedom of speech.

“You okay, laddie?” Balin asked after the court was over and Vala was now missing a hand. Balin was Thorin’s most trusted advisor having been his mentor growing up as well as one of his companions. His brother Dwalin was a guard for Thrór and had been one of Thorin’s childhood playmates, Thorin knew that the younger and more stoic brother would come by later to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, I just-” Thorin sighed, frowned and then looked back up at Balin. “I just don’t understand, two decades ago that man would have been thrown into the stocks for stealing a loaf of bread, now he’s losing a hand and another family will be out on the streets begging for coins so that they can buy what meager amount will just barely feed them. Erebor is suffering. Erebor is dying.” Balin nodded in agreement and put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“What will you do, laddie?”

“I don’t know.”  

~ Erebor ~

Fíli was the cutest baby Thorin had ever seen, he had tufts of blond hair already forming on his head and the bluest eyes. Dís had smiled proudly as she held him for the first time, exhausted but proud. Thorin had an heir and once again the line of Durin was secure for the next three generations. The little dwarfling slept most of the time only waking when he was hungry or had pooped his pants again. Thorin couldn’t  remember Frerin or Dís at this age, he had been five when Frerin was born, fifteen when Dís, still in his toddler years. He liked nothing more than being able to show off his nephew and heir to the other dwarves though. “I told you, you would be good with kids.” Dís said laughing to herself as she sat in the rocking chair watching Thorin just watch Fíli.

“He’s so tiny.” Thorin admitted, “We were never that tiny.” He wiggled his finger in front of Fíli’s face trying to elicit some kind of response from his sleeping nephew.

“Let him sleep,” Dís chided, “You have his whole life to watch him and dote on him. He’s going to be one spoiled prince.” Thorin rolled his eyes; he wouldn’t spoil Fíii that badly, he would teach him how to fight and if Thorin was anything it was a hard task master on fighting. He should get Dwalin to help him; yes Dwalin would help him and the look of terror when the lad saw the gruff dwarf fight would be worth it too. Dís might kill him afterwards but it would be worth it. Dwalin was one of Erebor’s greatest warriors, so was Balin but Dwalin was scarier because of all the tattoos and that he hardly ever talked. It was traditional for fathers to teach their sons how to use weapons but Víli used a bow and arrow, a treeshagger weapon,  it was something Thorin and Dwalin enjoyed greatly to tease the blond dwarf about, but no heir of his was going use a treeshagger weapon, no matter how good of a marksmen his father was.

“My Lord, Lord Balin has sent me to remind you that the king has held a session of court today and that you should not be late as to incur the king’s wrath.” A soldier said bowing to both of them. Thorin sighed, he hated court more than anything, the justice system had become corrupt under his grandfather and he could no longer speak out against the unjust punishments his grandfather dealt out as to risk whatever punishment Thrór deemed fit for calling him out again and being an embarrassment to the Line of Durin.

“You must come as well Dís, your absence will not go unnoticed by Grandfather and I do not believe he will see Fíli as an excuse.” Thorin said picking up his nephew who turned into his chest and grabbed onto the blue coat he always wore. Dís nodded and followed him out of the nursery.

“All rise for the king.” The herald proclaimed, Thorin looked out to the floor to see who was on trial, there were two culprits, young, neither of them could be any older than forty winters old. One had dark brown hair and wore a hat that looked vaguely familiar; the other had reddish hair and seemed to curl himself into the other one. He knew these two dwarflings, he just didn’t know why or how.

“Herald, read the charges!” Thrór shouted, and the two dwaflings lifted their heads to look up at their unmerciful king. The redhead looked frightened, the other one just looked defiant, as if he wasn’t going to let the crowd of people see him scared.

“Bofur and Bombur sons of Bwafer, were caught taunting a guard in the marketplace.” The herald read. That was how he knew them; they were at the toymaker’s stand a couple of months ago when Dís had bought the toys for Fíli. Both of their parents had died and they lived with the toymaker, they had been such nice boys.

“Fifty lashes, each.” Thrór said, he waved his hand dismissively. The guards moved to take the two boys away when Thorin held up his hand. “What is it now?” Thrór hissed, “I have very important things to do today.”

“I’m sure the treasury can wait Grandfather, these two boys will not survive fifty lashes. They are children, Grandfather, Frerin and I used to make fun of the guards all the time when we were their age.” Thorin said, he watched Thrór go from boredom to outright rage as he spoke, the other dwarves who watched the proceedings whispered among themselves, many of them remembering Thrór’s threat the last time Thorin had spoken out.

“You will learn respect, boy, and I will teach it to you. Guards arrest Thorin son of Thráin for crimes against his king.” Thrór shouted, bewildered guards came forward, grabbing Thorin’s upper arms and dragging him away from his grandfather’s throne. “We shall have his trial here and now.” Thorin saw his sister stand up in protest, holding Fíli in her arms but he shook his head, he couldn’t risk her getting in trouble as well, who would take care of the baby then? Frerin?

The guards lead him down to the courtroom floor and he was forced onto his knees. He could see everyone he loved in the audience watching him, watching his grandfather; Balin, Dwalin, their cousins Óin, the royal healer who had delivered Fíli just a few days ago, and Glóin, one of the royal treasurers, even Frerin was in the audience today. He did not bow his head in shame, but rather looked up at his grandfather with as much defiance in his eyes as Bofur had had when he had faced the king. If a young boy not even at his majority could do it, so could he. He could take whatever punishment his grandfather sought fit, he could take a beating or time spent in the mines doing physical labor. He might even like working in the mine, he could even take being imprisoned for a period of time though he would loathe not being able to see his nephew, but he could take the punishment.

“Thorin, son of Thráin,” Thrór announced, “you are charged with high treason against your king.” Treason, treason? Thorin wanted to shake his grandfather and ask who truly was the treasonous one, the one who had abandoned his people for gold and imposed higher taxes on them, or the one that was trying his best to stop the tyranny from continuing on. “And there is only one punishment for that.” He could hear Dís cry in horror, out of the corner of his eye he could see Víli trying to comfort her, to take away the pain. “Your beard shall be cut off, in shame for what you have done, and you shall be cast out of Erebor. You are no longer my heir. If you return to this mountain before I deem you honor restored, there will be only one action I can take.” Dís let out another strangled cry and this time Thorin looked at her and tried to hide his own fear from his face. She looked so pained, and clutched Fíli rather close to her chest as if she was afraid she would lose him too all the sudden. Thorin knew he could handle any punishment given to him but this, to be forced away from his family, forced away from his home, to die in the wilderness without anyone caring, to make his own way in the world.

He continued to look at his sister and Fíli as his head was jerked back and a dwarf with a long knife came towards him. He didn’t struggle as the knife got closer and closer to his chin and began to shear away the beard he had been so proud of, he just continued to look up at his family, his true family; Dís, Fíli, Víli and Frerin; Thorin hoped to Mahal that his brother treated the people of Erebor right, that he was a good king to them, that their pain and suffering could end with the reign of Thrór. His chin felt lighter as the last of the beard was sheared away, lying on the floor before him, he could never regrow it so long as remained in exile. He would give the beads to Dís so she could give Fíli the beads so that he would know about the uncle who loved him dearly, dearly enough to fight back against a corrupt king so that perhaps he could grow up in an Erebor that was not stricken with poverty and grief.

“You have one hour to leave.” Thrór said before turning to leave the chambers, the rest of the audience speechless in their seats. Thorin slowly stood up, his cheeks heated with the shame of losing his beard in front of a crowd that had his friends in it.

“Thorin,” And Dís was suddenly beside him, helping him to his feet, her eyes were red, and her cheeks were blotchy but she was not crying. Víli was behind her holding Fíli whispering soothing words into the baby’s ears. Thorin picked up his fallen beard, cradling it in his hands wondering why such a small thing, a clump of hair with beads braided in really, meant so much to his people, why it was such a thing of significant honor and pride to them, to him. It seemed like such a small thing to sacrifice to save two lives, so why did his chin feel so empty, why did look at it pain him? He absent mindedly poked one of the silver beads, that particular one had been a gift from Frerin when he turned of age, he wouldn’t be able to grow a beard so long as he was banished. With his head held high, and walking beside his sister and husband he walked out of the silent courtroom that was still in shock at the drama that had just unfolded in front of them.

“We’re with you laddie,” Balin said, he and Dwalin waiting right outside the doors. There was a murderous look on Dwalin’s face; it was taking everything the dwarf had not to go after the king with his two axes.

“No,” Thorin said quietly as they walked through the streets of Erebor coming quickly to the main gates. Dwarves moved out of the way as they walked, word of Thrórs punishment already having reached them.

“There goes the true king.” He heard one whisper as they walked, her head low so he couldn’t make out the blond darrowdam’s face, but his face flushed all the same. He was beardless, dishonored, and yet they would see him as a king.

“You must stay here; protect the people of Erebor in my stead. Train Fíli, teach him how to be a wise king like you taught me.” He told his old friend,  Balin nodded glancing over at the babe in Dís’s arms. “Take this,” He gave his beard to his sister, “Give the beads to Fíli when he is old enough. Tell him I loved him very much and was proud to call him my heir.” Dís nodded. He turned to Víli next; his brother-in-law was uncharacteristically stoic next to his wife, a rock for her to hold onto as their worlds were torn apart. “Take care of them, Víli.”

“I will,” the blond dwarf replied putting an arm around his wife. Thorin need not say anymore to him, he would protect Dís, whether it was with his silly treeshagger weapon or with his life, Thorin knew he could count on him.

“I will follow only you, my liege.” Dwalin said with a bow. Thorin shook his head before clasping his friend; Dwalin was in some ways more like a brother then a guard. They always had had each other’s back, one never too far from the other.

“I know,” Thorin whispered, “But you must stay, stay and protect my sister and her family. Please, Dwalin, I beg of you.” The gruff dwarf nodded and Thorin turned to the gates looking out into the world beyond them. He’d been out there before, often taking trips into the wild for fun or going into Dale to negotiate with their king, but nothing, nothing could prepare him for being forced into that world and away from the only one he’d ever known.

“May Mahal shine upon you.” Balin said, a customary farewell for a friend that you wouldn’t see in a long while, or a friend who was heading into battle. A prayer of protection, of safety, that one day that friend would see you again, well and unmolested.

“And you as well.” Thorin said with a curt nodded. He touched foreheads with Dís, ignoring the hot tears that ran down her face, she would deny them to anyone who asked. Then he walked away from them and stepped out beyond the gates that he would never walk under again.

**  
**“Thorin, always remember your-.” Dís said, whatever more she might have been pleading with him was lost as the wind picked up and Thorin stepped out into the bright sunlight of the lands outside of the mountain.


	2. Chapter Two

  ****

The sound of metal hitting metal echoed around the small Gondorian forge, and its design did nothing to allow the heat to escape making the small building very hot.  It was reminiscent, in some ways, of the lowers halls of Erebor where the craftsmen worked in their huge forges, crafting all sorts of items to be traded with Dale or to be locked away in the king’s treasury. Thorin was very much used to the sound, he may have been born a prince but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t taught the ancient skills of smithing. Every dwarf knew how to craft something with their hands, it was considered dishonorable not to be able to, how was one to craft beads to give to their family members or to craft courting gifts for their intended if not? Dwarves after all had been created to craft and mine. But despite his previous knowledge about smithing, Thorin had found himself having to ask human smiths for help when he started his wandering in Gondor nearly thirty-five years ago. Humans did not temper the iron the same way dwarves did and he had found himself humbling his pride in order to ask for help from the humans. It had not been the first time Thorin had humbled himself to the humans and it certainly wasn’t the last. Thorin had wandered from village to village in Gondor only staying for short periods of time, six months to a year at most. These humans were very distrustful of outsiders and many stolen or lost items had been blamed on him and he just took it in stride, leaving when he was threatened and taking payments that were not worth the work that he did. The people of Gondor had been plagued many times by orcs especially in the outlying villages that Thorin worked in, he avoided the big cities due to the dwarven traders that often were there that could recognize him. And so Thorin continued to travel enjoying the craft of smithing and working with his hands for once, acting like a commoner instead of nobility. Now, despite his rough beginning, Thorin had now become one of the greatest smiths in Gondor if not the greatest.

       The village he was staying in now was closer to the cities of Osgilith and Minis Tirith then Thorin had ever dared to go but he was running out of villages to go to and the people here were more open minded to having a dwarf smith and they had not been run down by orcs as some of the previous villages Thorin had lived in prior. So he had stayed much longer than he’d ever stayed anywhere else before almost a year and a half now. If  the rumors were correct, orcs were no longer running rampant in Gondor as they once been, they’d been seen going northwest towards Rohan and the land to the west. It was a cause for concern, why the orcs would migrate so suddenly without any warning, but Thorin had learned it was best not to worry about the goings on in the world. He was no longer a major player, it was better to just focus on getting food on the plate in front of him and keeping his job.

       “No, don’t strike it like you are hitting an enemy.” Thorin said to the young boy standing in front of the forge, the cause of all the noise today, the boy had curly red hair that was slicked back from the heat of the forge and small light brown freckles dotting his cheeks. His name was Beren, named for a character in some elvish saga from a bygone age that Thorin had never bothered to read. Thorin had found him begging in an alleyway in the village Thorin had been living in before this one. His parents had been killed by orcs during their migration west and the villagers had wanted nothing to do with him. Thorin remembering the plight of his own people had taken pity on the boy and taken him as his apprentice; if nothing else Beren would learn a craft that would sustain him a job for the rest of his life. “You must strike the sword like a child, you love it, but it has also been bad so you must discipline it.” That was the way his instructor had taught him when he was barely able to hold a hammer to beat the iron with. Beren nodded, striking the sword once more with the hammer.

It wasn’t perfect but he was no longer creating new dents in the already dented sword. It was one of Thorin’s swords, one that he had made the way humans make their swords, nowhere near as good as dwarfish or elfish swords but good practice for young apprentices. He was a smart boy, and a very fast learner, it would have been a crime to leave him begging on the streets with as much potential he had. After a few more minutes of Beren striking the sword Thorin stopped him to inspect the work and sent to boy off to play with his fellow children in the streets so he could do some work before closing up the forge for the night.

       “Dwarf,” A male voice says from behind him as he’s working on an axle for a farmer’s plough, he knows that tone, knows what will soon follow it, knows that he at least has overstayed his welcome in this village and it’s time to move on.

       “Hello,” Thorin said politely, all the many years of etiquette and tact coming back to him. The man looked at him with disdain, as if he was somehow better than Thorin because he was taller than the dwarf, because he wore finer clothes the smith, once Thorin had worn clothes that would have made this man’s clothes look like rags.  Thorin shook himself mentally, that was his past now, there was no point in thinking about it now.

       “You must go, there is another smith coming to work here, a human one. Your services are no longer required.” The man said, Thorin suspected as much, it didn’t matter if he was the best smith in all of Gondor, he was a dwarf and that would put him below and Gondorian man any day. Why did he do this to himself? Why didn’t he just regrow his beard and go to Ered Luin or somewhere like that where his face would be unrecognizable? Because, another voice in his head told himself, if an emissary from Erebor ever saw you they would know exactly who you are and you would be executed on the spot.

       “Of course,” Thorin said with a nod to the man, “The boy and I will be gone.”

       “The boy stays.” Thorin’s frown deepened, what was the meaning of this? The boy was not the property of this town, he had no bonds to fill, no debt to pay, he was his apprentice. “We feel that it is necessary for the boy to be among his own people and not be raised among-” The man gazed up and down Thorin’s small stature, “others.”

       “The boy is my apprentice, he was a beggar on the streets, I will not leave him here for him to return to that life.” Thorin protested, Beren deserved better than that.

       “Then he shall be an apprentice to the new smith here.” The man said dismissively, “You will be gone tomorrow and the boy shall still be here or you will suffer the consequences.” It took every ounce of self-control Thorin possessed not to run the man through right then. He was no stranger to facing enemies twice his size, he’d gone on plenty of raids against the orcs that had invaded Gondor. He would talk to the boy tonight and let him decide his fate, whether or not he wanted to stay or leave.

       “Rohan, we’ll go to Rohan.” Beren said, after Thorin told him everything that had transpired between him and the village elder. “Please Thorin, let me stay with you. I’ve always wanted to see the land of the Horse Lords.” How far away was the horse country? It would take longer than a day to get there; they would need an early start in order to escape the village elders. Thorin had passed through the country once, on his way north when he had just been traveling the world before he’d settled down in Gondor.

       “Fine, we make for Rohan, pack your things we leave before dawn.” Thorin said, Beren smiled at him and eagerly scampered away from the crate that had been their table for the past year and a half to collect the meager belongings he owned.

~Rohan~

       It took six days to travel to Rohan and then another two weeks for the two of them to find a village that was in need of a smith. The devastation the orcs  had caused, sweeping through the small kingdom while heading north west, was apparent on the faces of the villagers. They looked haggard and weary, there were many widows dressed in black, young and old alike, but unlike the Gondorian villagers they opened up their homes to the weary traveling smiths and no one looked like they were going to run them out of town. Most of them had never seen a dwarf before and came out to gawk a little at him. Children would run up and ask him all sorts of questions, did dwarves really live in caves in the mountains, could they smell gold, did they eat human children, had he ever seen an elf before? Thorin answered all the questions the children could throw at him with patience and with dignity, children should not discouraged from their curiosity.

Finally though, he and Beren settled down in a village in the area known as the Westfold, the village was near the capitol and the White Mountains, but not so close that any dwarf, not that Thorin suspected many dwarves made their way to Edoras, traveling to the capitol would pass through the town. It was a nice village, small, and almost every building had a thatch roof, there was a lot of grass in Rohan, even the forge had one, it was a safety hazard but one Thorin knew he could remedy. Their former smith had been killed by orcs when they went through Rohan and so they had been without one for the past six months and were desperate for anyone they could get.

Beren loved it, not only could he now learn to be a blacksmith but now he could also learn to ride horses, an animal Thorin found out Beren loved. He could see why, they were majestic creatures, proud, stubborn, but trainable, they reminded him of his own people for dwarves are proud and stubborn too. And unlike the Gondorian villages, they did not run him out of town after a year or so because they thought themselves above him in anyway, nor did he get blamed when things went missing, they all understood what it was like to struggle to survive and they all helped each other when times were rough and the harvest bad.

       “You’re late,” Thorin said sitting in one of the two wooden chairs that was around their wooden table, it was one of the few luxuries Thorin had allowed them to buy after living in the village for three years. Beren flushed slightly as he saw the dwarf, this was the second time this week he’d been late coming home from Farmer Erod’s stables, and with hay in his hair this time too. “What’s her name son?”

       “Who?” Beren asked, Thorin raised an eyebrow and glared slightly at the boy, did he take him for a fool.

       “Boy,” Thorin growled. “I’ve seen that stupid grin on the faces of many lads and lasses, I may not look old but I’m older than your great-granddad.” Beren slid into the other chair, it was bigger than the one Thorin was sitting in, but Thorin’s was custom made for a dwarf even though sitting at the table  was slightly awkward for him.

       “How old are you, Thorin?” Beren asked.

       “A hundred and forty-four.” Thorin grunted, he didn’t like discussing himself with anyone, not even Beren. “Now answer the question boy, what’s her name?”

       “Wynnfrith, it’s Wynnfrith.” Beren said sheepishly, Thorin nodded, Wynnfrith was Farmer Erod’s brother’s daughter and often liked to help at the stables alongside Beren. She was a nice lass, strong-willed, but Thorin found that most women actually were, but she was also good at women stuff too like sewing and what not. She would make an excellent wife for Beren, he had already planned on giving Beren the forge once he was married and stable, he’d taught the boy all the tricks of the trade that he knew and wasn’t dwarfish secrets, they wouldn’t help Beren, not with what they did at the forge.

       “She’s a good lass, big hips, good for rearing kids.” Thorin said if only to embarrass the boy. “My sister often came home looking like you do after her now husband began to pursue her. It was a good thing I liked him too.” Beren laughed hesitantly and Thorin smiled softly, he enjoyed these moments with Beren, maybe if he’d stayed in Erebor he and his nephew could have had these kinds of moments too.

       “I didn’t know you have a sister.” Thorin nodded. It couldn’t hurt to tell him a little be more about himself, he trusted the boy like no other outside of Erebor.

       “Her name is Dís and she and her husband live in Erebor with my nephew Fíli.” Beren nodded this time and then just sat quietly in his chair. Beren knew he was an exile, knew that he had been banished for crimes against the king, Thorin had never really gone into detail of what crimes, he didn’t want to explain Erebor’s state to an outsider even if it was one he looked at like a son or a nephew. Most of the time he tried not to think about Erebor or Dís or Fíli who would be celebrating his forty-fifth birthday soon enough. “When are you going to invite her over so I can meet her?” Beren blinked rapidly as if he was trying to figure out who Thorin was talking about. “Wynnfrith, the girl you’re sweet on.”

       “Thorin, we’re not even courting, and you’ve met her before. You spent all of last Winter Festival talking to her father about the talk of orcs and whether or not the sheep would all welp or something of that sort.” Beren said, ah yes Thorin remembered that, a good conversation, even if the part about the sheep was a little boring. He did try to fit in with the locals; they tended to respond better if one did that. Hadn’t Beren been chasing a skirt at that festival? Maybe it was the same girl.

       “Why aren’t you courting her then?”

       “I-I don’t know,” Beren spluttered fully embarrassed now to Thorin’s amusement, he’d never been able to do this before to anyone. It was something he had once looked forward to doing to Fíli, he and Dís probably would have tagged teamed him and Víli would have protested that they were being cruel to the boy. Thraín had died before Dís had begun courting Víli and so Thorin had done it to her instead, she made up for it though by asking Thorin at random moments when he was going to get married and what not. “I don’t know the customs of the Rohirrim though, and I don’t want to offend her.”

       “Do you love her?” Thorin asked very serious now, Beren nodded. “Then tell her of your intent and of your dilemma, let go of your pride to find your happiness.”

       “You are an old man aren’t you.” Beren teased and Thorin growled at him before picking up his whittling knife and the block of wood he’d been working on for the past week at night when it was just him and Beren. It was supposed to be a duck, but it didn’t look like much of anything right now, he’d only picked up wood carving a year ago. There wasn’t a lot of spare metal lying around for him to just make whatever he wanted in the forge, but carving wood had the same effect to an extent as metalworking, he was making something with his hands, crafting one thing into another.

       “Shut-up,” Thorin muttered and let a comfortable silence fall over the room, the only sound coming from the crack of logs breaking in the fire nearby.

       Wynnfrith was a lovely young lady and Thorin’s first assumptions about her had been correct, she was strong-willed and refused to let just any man court her, but Beren had found a special place in her heart. Her father at first had been hesitant about Beren, a poor boy from Gondor with no family to speak of, traveling around with a dwarven smith. Thorin could understand the man’s hesitants, he would be too if it was his own daughter, but the lass must have said something to her father because he gave Beren his blessing to court her. She was a smart girl too, able to keep up with Beren’s wit and charm and Thorin found that it was nice to be around two people who loved each other as much as they did.

       It didn’t surprise Thorin when Beren began to speak of marriage only about a year later, how he wanted to create a family with her, and love her. Thorin had prepared for this and so one night he gave Beren an iron ring he had made from the shavings of iron from the many different projects they had worked on in the forge. “Give this to her and declare your intent of marriage.” Thorin said to him.

       “Thorin I- I don’t know what to say.” Beren said looking at the small ring in his hand, “The detail, I’ve never seen this kind of work before.”

       “Rings like this are common in the north, dwarven made rings.” He clarified. “The inscription is an old dwarven saying, for we believe that souls are shared between two lovers, that is why dwarves only love once.” Thorin explained it sounded like a romantic notion any person of any race could agree to. He thought it had been appropriate for one who had been raised by a dwarf to have and Beren must have agreed as he nodded as if he understood the older dwarf’s words.

       It did not surprise him to see the ring on Wynnfrith’s hand within the week; he watched Beren put it on her finger and twirl her around before kissing her in the small alcove between the forge and their home. They looked beautiful together and they would have many children and Beren would be happy and he deserved that happiness of a family. And Thorin also knew that he would not stay, that he would move on as he always did. Even now he grew restless in the small village, he had always traveled, and he felt the most comfortable on the road and soon it would be time for him to leave. He would stay for the wedding, but not long after.

       Thorin and Beren were in the forge when they attacked, orcs poured into the village and began to slaughter them one by one without much resistance. Screams rang out from the women, young and old alike alerting the two to the danger. Thorin rushed out, a dwarven sword in his hand and an ancient dwarven battle cry on his lips and when he swung his sword he did not miss and he soon became covered the orc’s black blood. Beren was not far behind him, a sword in his hand as well. They had heard rumors of the orc’s return but not many had heeded them, for many rumors from traders are false and the orcs hadn’t been seen in many years. But Thorin was always prepared, he’d been a warrior before he had been anything else. “Wynnfrith!” he heard Beren cry out as the orcs fled from the village. “Wynnfrith!” The young man ran to a fallen body on the opposite end of the village, blond hair hid the face but Thorin knew the body, knew the shape, and knew when he heard Beren’s cry of anguish that the girl had not survived the encounter with the orcs. He ran to his apprentice’s side, to console him, but he did not know quite what to say. He had not lost someone dear to him in a long time and the many years of exile had hardened his heart quite a bit. He remembered the pain of losing his father when he was younger, the feeling of overwhelmingness when he was told of his new responsibilities, but Thorin wasn’t sure if anything he said would help. Wynnfrith’s skirt was torn, and her arms were covered in bruises, the orcs hadn’t just killed her, they had defiled her as they went.

       “Beren, Beren, I’m sorry.” Thorin whispered, watching as Beren cradled her body against him, he did not hide his tears and Thorin pretended not to see them. He looked around, accessing the damage done against the villagers, a few of the buildings were on fire, including the forge, and the bodies of villagers and orcs alike littered the streets, few had survived the brutal attack. The bodies would have to be burned, there was no way the survivors could bury that many bodies. Thorin wondered to himself if the surviving villagers would stay here, if they could stay here after seeing the destruction of so many of their friends and loved ones.

       “I want vengeance, Thorin, I want to see them all dead.” Beren said his hands shaking, “I want to kill them. They’re animals you know, all of them, every single one of them. And I will slaughter them like animals.” He watched as Beren took the ring off of Wynnfrith’s finger and placed it in his pocket.

       “Wynnfrith would want you to be happy, she would want you to be a blacksmith and move on from her.” Thorin said quietly, vengeance had never settled well in his stomach. It was a path to destruction that left more victims than it saved, it was like his grandfather’s gold-sickness, it left one with a one track mind that no one could shake you from, and if you went down that path there was no turning back.

       “What would you know of what Wynnfrith would have wanted?” Beren shouted.

       “Let us bury the dead first.” Thorin said trying to appease Beren, maybe if the boy cooled down this talk of vengeance would disappear.

~Rohan~

       They had tracked the orcs down, they were heading east in the Riddermark towards Edoras and Gondor unaware they were being pursued by a duo of hunters only a few hours behind them. Beren had been quiet the whole time, his face contorted into one of intense concentration as if the only thing that mattered to him now in the world was killing these orcs. Wynnfrith’s ring now hung on a piece of twine around Beren’s neck and every once and a while Thorin would see Beren finger it as if to reassure himself it was still there, that this was all real. “We don’t have to do this, we can go back now. Revenge is a dangerous path.” Thorin warned as they looked over the ridge at the orcs down below.

       “I can never go back now.” Beren announced, “I have become the best killing machine there is, I have no reason to live except to wipe out the orcs.” Thorin sighed, he would not abandon him now, if Beren wanted to fight the orcs then Thorin would follow. He just wasn’t sure how long they were going to live just fighting orcs.

       Thorin opened his mouth for a word of caution when he heard screaming, nobles it looked like from the dress had been picnicking in the field. They had been closer to Edoras then Thorin originally thought, there was no way they could turn back now, not when there was people in danger. Beren jumped down from the cliff first, his sword hacking its way through the orc ranks. Thorin followed taking down the orcs with quick precise movements. The orcs screamed and grunted, not expecting to be met with resistance so quickly, they thought they had found easy targets after most of their forces had been decimated back at the village. The skirmish was over before it had really begun and much to Thorin’s relief the nobles seemed unhurt though a few of their servants were beyond saving. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The noble woman said, she clutched a baby to her chest as she reached out to grab Beren’s arm.

       “Do you know who I am, do you know who you just saved?” The man asked haughtily as if he was angry with them for some unknown reason. Beren shook his head and Thorin stared blankly at the man, he’d had his fill of haughty nobles to last a life time. “I am Fengel son of Folcwine, King of Rohan.” Thorin immediately lowered to his knee, he yanked on Beren’s shirt to lower him too, it was best not to anger a king even if one had just saved his life, a story could quickly be turned against you.

       “Forgive us; we were unaware of your high position.” Thorin said, quickly.

       “No, I am grateful you were here, and if there is anything to desire land, lordship, money, I will give it to you for saving my life.” Fengel said, he seemed more grateful for his life now that Beren and Thorin were bowing. Thorin had heard stories about this king, he was a spoiled man, he enjoyed pretty baubles and trinkets over the lives of his subjects. Fengel had never intended to be king he was the third son of Folcwine, and his elder brothers Folcred and Fastred had been groomed to be king leaving Fengel to do whatever he chose which included partying and spending the kingdom’s money left and right to pay for his lavish lifestyle. His father and elder brothers had been killed in Gondor two years ago fighting the Harad from the south.

       “All we desire, your majesty, is to fight the orcs that now roam your lands and the means to do so. The orcs have destroyed many of your villages, if you give us the means we will drive out this scourge from your land and all free lands of Middle Earth.” Beren said. Thorin closed his eyes with a sense of forboding, Beren wanted to wipe all the orcs out and now he would have the means to do so.

       “Granted, and what about you, Master Dwarf?” the king asked,

       “There is nothing in your great kingdom in which I desire. I will fight with the lad, for he is dear to me and I do not wish to see harm befall him.” Thorin replied not missing the grateful look Beren gave him. He would follow the boy to the ends of the earth and back if only to protect him, family was the most important thing in the world, and once upon a time the dwarves of Erebor had believe that, and now this boy was the only family he had left in the world.

       The king didn’t give them his finest troops to work with, most were farm boys and criminals trying to make a better life for them and their families if they had one, they were ill trained and had the worst armor and weapons. This suited Thorin fine, he could train recruits, he and Balin often would take the newest recruits to break them in and instill loyalty among them. People were more willing to die for people they cared about and knew then those they had just heard of or seen on formal occasions. And he could make them better weapons and armor out of what they already had; when he was done they would be a fighting force to contend with.

       “How ready are the troops?” Beren asked one evening as he poured over a map of Rohan on a table in the Hall of Meduseld, the home of Fengel and many of his top advisors. Beren spent a great deal of his time here as well, slowly gaining even more favor with the king. “Orcs have been spotted in the Westfold, we will ride out to meet them.”

       “When?” Thorin asked, Rohan wasn’t a very big Kingdom, only a third of the size of Gondor, anywhere they wanted to go would only take about a day’s ride to get there, maybe two if they went at a slow pace. It wasn’t that the men weren’t ready physically they weren’t prepared mentally, Thorin liked to warn his troops before going into battle, warn them of the dangers and reassure them that he would be there, fighting alongside them.

       “We ride out a dawn tomorrow.” Beren said, “Are the men ready?”

       “Yes.” He didn’t agree with this, hunting orcs for personal revenge, saying that you were doing it to protect the people of Rohan, when really there was only personal pleasure in it for you. Orcs may not have any mercy in them, but that didn’t mean that they had to stoop down to their levels too.

       “Good, then we ride out.” They would have ridden out anyway whether Thorin had said yes or no, Thorin knew that and yet his stomach did not feel settled at the thought.

       The battle was long and fierce, Beren had not decided to test his men on a small group of orcs and Thorin knew they had probably lost a great deal of their men, good men, honorable ones. His sword arm burned from using it so much, but every orc that had come within his sword’s reach had been cut down. Bodies piled up quickly around him, making it hard to maneuver through the battlefield once it was over. They had won, orc bodies littered the ground and Thorin was sure that Beren would be ordering a chase if any had tried to escape the battle. Where was the boy? Thorin looked around for the boy he’d practically raised; his red hair often stuck out amongst the blonds of the Rohirrim. Beren was on the edge of the battle field, his right hand fiddling with the ring around his neck looking at the battle field a smile on his face. “They will sing songs about us, Thorin.” He said, “They will sing about Beren and Thorin and their mighty warriors who slayed the entire race of orcs around campfires for ages to come.” Thorin could see the madness in Beren’s eyes as he spoke, it was not the same madness that he had seen in his grandfather’s eyes, this was a madness drive by grief and revenge but it made the dwarf uneasy nonetheless.

       “Let us bury the dead, we can burn the orcs.” Thorin said, their men had started to gather to them looking for guidance, most had never seen a dead body before and those who had, had never seen so many. They would need Thorin and Beren to be strong for them, to guide them, and they would harden, Thorin knew, soon enough to the stench of death and decay.

       Beren was right though, they did sing about the deeds of Beren and the dwarf called Oakenshield, for he was strong and stout like an oak tree and shielded the people of Rohan, that followed him, they sang about how they slew so many orcs and their bravery in battle. It started around the fires in the villages of Rohan, about how they would never have to fear orcs again and spread to Gondor, and then it spread outward from the realms of men and into the ears of others.

~Erebor~

       Dís had heard the tales of the dwarf who stood side by side with men and fought the orcs, a brave warrior with much prowess on the battlefield. The dwarves under the mountain said it was Thorin, the true king of Erebor and that one day he would come back to save them from their evil king. It could be her brother, he had once been a mighty warrior for Erebor, but there was no proof and she did not think she could bear having her hopes raised only to be dashed again. She was a strong woman, many dwarves would agree but even she had her breaking points and after the death of her husband and raising her two sons on her own she wasn’t sure how much farther she had till she reached her breaking point. She had not known until a few minutes ago that her brother the king had heard of the tales of the dwarf in the south, and that he too believed it was their brother Thorin. “He will come for the throne; he will lead an army of men against me.” Frerin shouted, “He will try to usurp me.” He was talking to someone Dís could not see from her hiding hole where she watched her brother’s secret audiences he did not want the people of Erebor to know about. She was pretty sure it was an orc, the figure was certainly tall enough to be one, but he was paler than she’d ever seen an orc before. “I want you to find this dwarf, and bring him back to me, alive preferably but I’ll take him dead too.”

       “And if it is not your brother?” the figure asked.

       “Kill him anyways, if the stories are true his aim is to wipe out the race of the orcs, it would be in your best interest to do so.” Dís almost could not believe what she was hearing, her brother was allying himself with orcs to keep his power on the throne. He was plotting to kill their other brother who had done no wrong, who had not returned to Erebor since he was exiled fifty years ago. Mahal, watch over him, keep him safe, she begged. Thorin had to return to Erebor, he had to come back and end this madness, Thrór was nothing compared to Frerin; Frerin had no compassion for the people. He killed at will whether one had committed a crime or not, he had disbanded the court system, all punishments were carried out at his word, the people lived in fear of him they dared not whisper a word against him. Fíli, her eldest son, was Frerin’s heir, as neither of her brother’s had ever taken a wife or sired children, and Dís knew that one day Frerin would try to take Fíli from her and turn him against her. Fíli was honorable, and good and cared for the people of Erebor like Thorin once had, he would be a good king one day. But he was young and he enjoyed making mischief with his brother too much, he was too young to take the throne now, but Frerin had to be stopped.

~Rohan~

       “Beren, Beren,” Thorin knelt over the young man’s body, five years of fighting together and now none of them were left, but him. And yet he had always known it would come to this, to Beren’s death, which was for naught really as there were plenty of orcs left in this world as this last battle had proven. He’d lost everybody, their whole group had been wiped out, save him, there was no one left. And he didn’t understand, why had that pale orc come after him so fiercely, he wasn’t the one who had vowed to destroy the race of orcs. If Beren hadn’t come in between them and taken that blow Thorin knew he’d be dead, he had cut off the orc’s hand and they had retreated right after that leaving him the only survivor. He would bury the dead, he had to, and then he’d go after the orcs, he would make sure they could not kill anymore innocents. So many had died.

       He looked down at the fallen warrior, he looked down on the human he’d seen as his son, his comrade in arms, his friend, and for the first time in a very long time, Beren looked as if he was at peace, as if the evils he had seen in the world no longer weighed up on his shoulders. He was with Wynnfrith again, and wherever they were he was happy. “Rest now, and be at peace. And may you ever be welcome in the Halls of Mahal and Manwë.” A last rite for a fallen comrade in arms, then he closed Beren’s eyes and clasped both hands on his chest and put his sword in between them. He took out his flint rocks and on the soft brown plains of Rohan he lit the battle field on fire and prayed to Mahal for all of their souls.

~Shire~

       When the people of Bree spoke of the Shire one of the first thing they mentioned was how Hobbits could live in holes in the ground, the hobbits who lived in Bree did not, and as Thorin later found out even most hobbits who lived in the Shire did not live in holes. Only the very wealthy and the poor did as tenets. Next would be how very well off the Shire was, warm summers but not too hot and mild winters perfect for growing all manners of crops and what not, which was good because the Shire did little trading with the outside world, the preferred to ignore and be ignored by the big folk of the world. Thorin could understand their logic, the people of Gondor had underestimated him and overlooked him many times because of his short stature, and hobbits were even shorter than dwarves. But now a horrible winter had befallen them and rumors were that orcs were plaguing the Shirelings as well as famine leaving the hobbits desperate for help. Thorin had pledged to himself and to the memory of his fallen comrades to stop the innocents from dying and Thorin couldn’t think of anybody more innocent than the simple folk of the Shire who had few swords and no experience in fighting.

       A wolf’s howl, it had found prey upon some poor hobbit more likely since he had yet to see any kind of forestry animal since he had arrived in the Shire. The wolf was nearby and if he was lucky he could get to it before the poor Shireling died and the wolf had a nice meal. He cautiously drew his sword and made his way through the trees, the sounds of the wolf’s howl and it barking at its prey lead Thorin in the right direction. As he got closer he began to hear the hobbit, it was making a hi-ya sound. He almost laughed the scene was comical, a little hobbit, couldn’t be full grown was hitting the wolf’s snout with a branch keeping the animal at bay, and every time he’d hit the wolf he’d make the hi-ya sound. A brave little lad. Snap, the wolf grabbed the branch from the hobbit’s hand and tossed it aside. The young hobbit gave out a shrill cry of fright and stumbled backwards tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground while the wolf continued to advance on the poor child. Thorin sprung from behind the tree stepping in between the hobbit child and the wolf. He drove it back first, he didn’t like killing things in front of children if he could help it and the child probably had never seen death before. When he was sure the trees would block the child’s view of him and the wolf he then beheaded it and cleaned his blade on the white snow and hurried back to the child.

       “What’s your name?” he asked him, little blue eyes looked up at him with wonderment.

   “Bilbo,” the child replied, “Bilbo Baggins.”

    

        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooh, what a long chapter, it got a little out of hand I'll admit. I was going to post this Monday but I'm going away for the weekend and I won't be around a computer so you get this a few days early. I will try with all my might to update once a week, but life tends to get the best of me and i get sporadic with my updates.
> 
> Re-edits 1/25/15: Changed a few sentances that didn't make sense. Added in a few more descriptions.


	3. Chapter Three

Bilbo dug his toes deeper into the warm dirt enjoying the way the little speckles felt in between his toes, it was soft and smelt good. His mother would fuss later when she saw the dirt all over his feet but for now he couldn’t really care, Hobbiton’s warm summer air felt good against his skin and the dirt felt good beneath his feet, a hobbit’s day couldn’t get any better than this, especially after the winter they’d just had, not nearly as bad as the Fell Winter a few years ago, but it had been rough by hobbit standards and Bilbo’s father Bungo had passed away during it and so much sorrow had passed under Bag End recently. He knew his mother Belladonna was trying her best to move on, but she had been very much in love with his father, he had been the only hobbit lad in all of the Shire able to tame the wandering Belladonna Took who had, had her fair share of adventures as a hobbit lass. Bilbo himself hadn’t gone on any adventures or done anything too remarkably out of the ordinary yet though he was sure it was only time before he had the whole of the Shire up in an uproar. He often liked to go into the woods and pretend to look for elves and dwarves, though according to Master Thorin, dwarves lived in mountains. He hadn’t participated in any hunts for elves recently though, not since his father died, Bungo Baggins hadn’t approved of his games though Belladonna had often encouraged it. “Bilbo!” he heard his mother call from inside their cozy hobbit-hole his father had built for his mother. He jumped up from the edge of the garden where he had been sitting for the past hour wondering if there was another world buried underneath their own world, maybe what he considered dirt was actually their sky. It didn’t matter really, his Baggins half told him, what did it have to do with the price of tea in Tooksbourgh?

       “Bilbo!” His mother called again and Bilbo hurriedly began to brush the dirt off his feet, Belladonna might have encouraged him to have his own adventures and what not but she also kept a clean house and wouldn’t tolerate him tracking little specks all over her clean floors. “Bilbo,” she said as he reached the green door of Bag End, she stood in the doorway and he couldn’t help but notice how some of her gray streaked hair had come undone from her bun, she was getting up there in years, almost eighty now, not quite the spring chicken that she was but she still had an air of youth about her in her smile. “I have a pair of shovels in the black smith’s shop. Go see if he’s done with them yet.” Bilbo nodded and turned around to descend down the dirt path that led from the doorstep of Bag End to the main road at the foot of the hill where the mill and the blacksmith's shop was.

       “Oh,” she said, “and Bilbo, give him these cookies I made.” She grabbed small brown box from the table beside the door and handed the box to him. “Don’t eat any of them, Bilbo Baggins, I’ll know.” And she would, she always knew exactly what he was up to when she wanted to, it was as if the birds spied for her. As a child he had wondered if his mother had special powers granted to her by a wizard or a king or someone of great importance because of a great deed she had done. Bilbo frowned as he looked at the box in his hands, was his mother sweet on the black smith? It hadn’t even been a full year yet since they lost his father and his mother was already flirting with others, and a dwarf to boot, what would the other hobbits say if they got wind of this? Another one of Belladonna Took’s scandals, he heard what other hobbits considered horror stories of his mother, and she always just shrugged them off and told Bilbo to do whatever he wanted with his life and not care so much what the other hobbits thought. The dwarf saving his life a few years back during the Fell Winter probably didn’t help his mother’s attraction either. A wolf had wandered into the Hobbiton area and Bilbo still practically a child hadn’t paid any mind until the wolf had been almost on top of him, and then Thorin was there wielding a sword and forcing the wolf away from the fauntling before killing it away from where Bilbo could see. He was grateful to the dwarf for saving his life, but he was also a little frightened of him. Thorin was tall, even for a dwarf, and he had an air about him that reminded Bilbo of his mother’s stories of princes and kings, and sometimes he would stare off into the east as if he was somewhere else other than the small forge in Hobbiton. He had never inquire into whether or not the dwarf had any family or why he was even in the Shire to begin with and not under some mountain digging up gold and other things that dwarves did.

       The forge was a short walk down the hill from Bag End, it was across the road from the mill which had a water wheel Bilbo had once broken his arm trying to climb on top of, and also from the Green Dragon Inn where Hobson liked to spend his time when he wasn’t in the gardens. His second son Hamfast was a few years younger than Bilbo but they were still very good friends. Bilbo could already hear the sound of metal beating against metal outside of the wooden building. He took a deep breath, and entered the forge only to stop a few paces in surprised by the sight in front of him. Thorin was using a hammer to beat some kind of metal in front of him, Bilbo couldn’t see what the blacksmith was actually working on, in front of an extremely hot forge, without a shirt on. Sweat rolled down his back and Bilbo could see how hard the dwarf was with muscle in a way a hobbit could never dream of. Hobbits were soft creatures after all, at least gentlehobbits were.

       “Um, Mister Thorin,” Bilbo squeaked, his hands shaking as he held out the brown box of cookies, the dwarf turned around and Bilbo blushed even harder than he already was the tips of his pointed ears turning red. This was so indecent, if the other hobbits knew they’d be scandalized, at least his mother would laugh though.

       “Sorry,” Thorin grunted, “Wasn’t expecting company.” Bilbo nodded and swallowed the spit in his mouth and nodded, that was understandable, he reasoned to himself, and the forge was so hot if one worked over it all day. Did all dwarves work without a shirt on in the mountains? The dwarf reached over for a towel on a nearby rack and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Your mother’s shovels are done.” Reach over to the rack again, Thorin pulled on a white shirt and walked over to a table near Bilbo.

       “My- my mother also wanted me to give you this.” Bilbo held out the box a little further. Thorin raised an eyebrow but took the box of cookies from the hobbit’s hands and Bilbo found himself looking at whatever it was Thorin had been working on before he had interrupted him. “What- what are you working on?”

       “Mrs. Boffin’s wheelbarrow, her axel broke yesterday.” Thorin replied as he opened the box of cookies and pulled out one. “Would you like one?” Bilbo nodded and Thorin pulled out another and handed it over to the young hobbit. Looking around the forge, he realized there wasn’t much in it a huge fireplace type thing with a large concrete block in front of it, barrels full of something, the table and off to the side near the door a shelf full of little knickknacks and such that seemed remarkably out of place in the forge.

       “I didn’t know you could whittle, I didn’t know dwarves knew how.” Bilbo pointed to the carving made from a willow branch of a lady dwarf, well Bilbo assumed it was a lady dwarf, it had feminine curves like a hobbit lass would, but it also had a beard, was that normal for lady dwarves?

       “Yes, they can, most choose not to, but a lot of toymakers can. I picked it up while traveling through Rohan a few years ago.” Thorin scratched the back of his head and leaned back on the table. “That’s my sister Dís,” he pointed to the willow carving. “She’s fifteen years younger than me.” Fifteen years was an awful long amount of time between children, Bilbo mused, but maybe that was normal for a dwarf, they did live a lot longer than men or even hobbits.

       “She’s is quite pretty.” Bilbo murmured before biting into the cookie. “Where does she live?”

       “Erebor.” The hobbit didn’t miss the wistfulness in Thorin’s voice or how his eyes looked east through the window and out into the wild world yonder. Bilbo didn’t know much about the smith’s past, no one did, he had just appeared one day in the Shire during the Fell Winter and saved him. “It’s a solitary mountain out beyond Mirkwood, and it’s very wealthy with gold and jewels.” Bilbo nodded and tried to imagine where this mountain was on one of his mother’s maps, he’d never really concerned himself with anything east of the Misty Mountains, if he was to go anywhere he wanted to go to Rivendell to see the elves.

       “It must be nice, all the gold and jewels, dwarves in all the stories love them.” Bilbo said not really paying any attention to what exactly he was saying, his mind was away in one of the many stories his mother had read to him as a child.

       “Yes, some believe that don’t they.” Thorin said bitterly, “That what we covet most is gold and riches and care little for anything else.” Bilbo flushed from the dwarf’s rebuking, he was naive about the world a lot of the time but he still should have been more sensitive to the dwarf.

       “I-I-” Bilbo wasn’t sure what to say after offending the smith, he was sure the dwarf would turn him away now, and his mother would hear how inconsiderate he was and she’d lecture him too.

       “Kin and good company is what a dwarves covet most, or should, most do, but sometimes,” Thorin hesitate for a moment, “Sometimes they forget, sometimes the gold goes to their head, like a sickness, and there’s no reasoning with them.” Thorin looked distant now as if he wasn’t truly seeing the small forge in Hobbiton anymore, and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had known someone who was consumed by the gold. He wanted to ask more on the topic but Thorin’s distance stopped his voice. He wasn’t sure what to say, he was sure he had offended the dwarf but the dwarf also hadn’t dismissed him, so maybe his words hadn’t been that much of an offense, maybe the dwarves were used to the misconception. He looked down at his mother’s cookie in his hand that he’d only taken a bite out of; his mother was one of the best cooks in the Shire.

       “Do you- do you like them?” He asked finally after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. “The cookies I mean.” Thorin smiled slightly and nodded, Bilbo hadn’t noticed until now that the dwarf was on his third cookie and he wondered what the smith had looked like as a child eating his mother’s cookies. If the crumbs around the dwarf’s mouth was anything to go by, Bilbo had to imagine Thorin would have been quite adorable.

       “Yes,” Thorin said after swallowing the cookie that was in his mouth. “You mother is an amazing cook.” A smile worked its way onto the dwarf’s face as he brought he baked good up to his face as if to inspect it. “In fact hobbits are the best cooks by far when it comes to making pastries. No wonder you guys keep to yourselves, for if others knew of your skills you would never get a day’s rest.” Bilbo snorted and found himself smiling alongside the other man. It seemed almost propitious, the idea of the Big Folk coming into the Shire just to experience their cooking skills.

       “Not all hobbits are good cooks,” Bilbo teased, “we just don’t want others to know so we don’t let you taste their cooking.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo’s almost shameless flirting and continued to eat Belladonna’s cookies nonetheless.

       They talked for a long time, long after all the cookies were gone and the sun had set behind the hills in the west and supper time had passed. And neither one seemed to notice the time’s passage either. They spoke mostly about hobbits and gossip that was going around the Shire. Bilbo was surprised at how much Thorin heard, either in the forge or at the Green Dragon, where Thorin spent a good many of his evenings enjoying hobbit’s brew. Thorin might have been considered an outsider by a great deal many of the hobbits, but he had also won a great deal many of their hearts by being the best smith they’d ever had, and from when he had stopped the wolves advancements in the Fell Winter.

       “Really?” Bilbo asked listening to Thorin’s retelling of how Mrs. Rosa Bulgur’s glazed doughnuts were snatched right off her own kitchen window sill as she left them to cool by some crafty young hobbits. Brave lads and lasses, but Bilbo would have no sympathy for them if they were ever caught, he’d done his fair share of snitching sweets from sill as a hobbitling and gotten caught a great deal many times too. “I’d bet my buttons it was little Paladin Took, he’s a crafty one.” Paladin was the son of the Thain and Bilbo found him to be good company when one wanted to make mischief in the Shire. Thorin shrugged and shifted his weight between his legs.

       “I can’t tell your young ones apart yet.” He admitted, “They all look the same, wide eyed and curly hair.”

       “I’m still considered a young one.” Bilbo pointed out, he was only thirty-one, granted he’d be thirty-two in September but he’d still have one more year before he’d be considered an adult by hobbit standards.

       “So this is where my son is.” Belladonna Took stood in the doorway to the forge. Her lips were tighten into a frown, but the twinkle in her eye told Bilbo she wasn’t actually mad, just pulling Thorin’s leg.

       “I am sorry, ma’m, Bilbo and I got caught up talking.” Thorin said bowing to the elderly hobbit woman, Bilbo hurriedly nodded.

       “You’ve missed supper, Bilbo.” She said, “Dinner is in a half an hour. Don’t be late.” And then she turned and Bilbo saw a hint of a smile on her face as she did so. Thorin shook his head and looked sheepishly after her.

       “I don’t understand how you hobbits can eat so much.” Thorin said, “Seven meals a day, don’t you think that’s overdoing it a bit?”

       “They’re not hugely extravagant meals.” Bilbo protested, “And if one is planning on having a big meal then one skips at least one of the other meals.” Bilbo explained, “How many meals do dwarves have?”

       “Traditionally? Three. Most dwarves will eat two of them at home, at least the common ones will. If you are a noble, you eat them in a huge dining hall with the king, it’s so he can keep an eye on you, I suppose. During festivals and such the whole dwarven kingdom will gather in one of our larger halls and have a huge feast or at least they used to. Two of them have to be big though because we work it off in the mines or practicing.”

       “Practicing what?” Bilbo asked, he had never practiced anything that required eating two huge meals a day.

       “Combat.” Oh, combat wasn’t something that was usually practiced in the Shire, unnecessary. A few of the Tooks had bows but those were mostly used for hunting game and stuff. Bilbo had, had a sling shot when he was little but when he got older his father deemed it inappropriate for a gentle hobbit. “You do not find many fat dwarves.” Bilbo suppressed a giggle trying to imagine Thorin with his father’s big belly.

       “Nothing, wrong with a round belly.” Bilbo muttered, his father had been a rather large hobbit, though his mother was not. Thorin chuckled and nodded, he glanced out the window to the lights reflecting off the pond that came from the different hobbit simials.

       “You should go, I have already deprived you of one meal, it is best you do not miss another.” Bilbo knew the dwarf was right though he would prefer him not to be, he could have stayed up all night asking him about the outside world. Thorin had seen a lot of it.

       “Good night, Thorin.” Bilbo said as he left the forge turning around slightly to look at the handsome dwarf.

       “Good night, Bilbo Baggins.”

       Bilbo came back the next day, and then the day after that, and the day after that until it became a daily habit, sometimes he’d just say hi to Thorin, and other days he found himself spending all afternoon with the dwarf, skipping afternoon tea and often times supper as well, and his mother Belladonna would have to come fetch him home for dinner. They talked about all manner of things, Bilbo often told Thorin stories about his mother’s adventures with the great wizard Gandalf, and even sometimes about his own childhood looking for his own adventures in the Shire, how he’d looked for elves under leaves and dwarves under rocks. These stories amused Thorin greatly. The dwarf spoke often of his time spent in Rohan and Gondor and the lands to the south that were controlled by men. He never spoke though of why he left Erebor and his sister, nor did he ever speak about any other member of his family and Bilbo never asked. Summer passed into autumn and Bilbo found himself bringing the dwarf even more cakes and cookies and other sweets cooked or created in the kitchen of Bag End, and if they weren’t made by Belladonna, they were made by Bilbo himself. He was very confused about the dwarf and his feelings for him, he was pretty sure his mother had an interest in the smith, and having his rival for the dwarf’s affection being his own mother was unsettling and upset his stomach. How many hobbits had to face this? What would his friends say?

       “You are going to make me fat.” Thorin remarked as he eyed the cake Bilbo had made for him earlier that day. It was a white cake with chocolate frosting and little round peppermints dotting the top. Bilbo loved peppermint and they were much easier to find now that Yule time was close.

       “I thought there was no such thing as fat dwarf.” Bilbo quipped, smirking. Thorin rolled his eyes and patted the hobbits head. “Are you staying here for Yule?” He asked ignoring Thorin’s demeaning actions.

       “Yes,” Thorin said hesitating slightly.

       “You won’t go visit your sister?” Bilbo asked, he was confused Yule was a time for family, he had always visited the Tooks, Baggins and Brandybucks during the Yule time. Thorin shook his head and turned back to the forge, pulling a long metal rod out of the fire before he started to hammer the large dent in it.  He could hear Thorin take deep breaths as he struck the metal rod, but he watched quietly as the dwarf worked. Calmly Thorin put the rod in the barrel of water before turning to look at Bilbo again.

       “I was banished, Bilbo. I cannot return to Erebor, I will never go back to my home.” Thorin said calmly, though Bilbo did notice that his fists were bunched up, shaking slightly. Banished! What could Thorin have done to be banished, he had never come off as dangerous? He wasn’t a criminal was he? No. There was no way Thorin could be a criminal, not a bad one at least, but were there such things as a good criminal? He stood up, walking over to the distressed dwarf and found himself hugging him, working his fingers into Thorin’s hair, whispering words of comfort to the dwarf. And Thorin hugged him back, large fists grasping the back of his white cotton shirt, hot water droplets falling into Bilbo’s hair. He had never been so vulnerable before and it scared Bilbo a little bit, Thorin wasn’t supposed to be weak ever; he was supposed to be strong and brave, always.

       “Why?” He didn’t think Thorin was criminal he didn’t act like a criminal.  But people didn’t’ get banished for little crimes either, or at least Bilbo didn’t think they did, was a he a murderer? Or had he made off with the king’s jewels? Maybe he was like that thief from the stories his mother used to tell him, the one that would steal from the rich and give to the poor. Thorin had said that Erebor was a very wealthy kingdom. He tried to imagine Thorin shooting a bow and being very suave like his mother had always described that childhood character. Many ideas other ideas of what could of caused the dwarf’s banishment ran through his head, each more outlandish than the one prior.

       “I spoke out against the king one too many times. Called out against his harsh punishments against the people of Erebor, tried to stop his cruel act. And Thrór cast me out.” Thorin’s voice wasn’t bitter like Bilbo expected it to be as he spoke about the reasons, he spoke as if he had come to terms about what had happened and knew that there was nothing he could do about it. “It is why I do not wear a beard.” Thorin broke away from their embrace and Bilbo saw his beardless face that he had never really noticed before. Thorin had thick stubble growing along his face, which was more than any gentle hobbit would ever grow in his lifetime, hobbits didn’t grow facial hair. “I am disgraced amongst the dwarves.”

       “Oh,” Bilbo wasn’t sure what else to say, what could one say to a dwarf who was unjustly banished and would never see his family again? “Do- do you want to spend Yule with me and my mother? We aren’t going to visit family, Mom doesn’t want to, not since Dad died.”

       “I would be honored.” Thorin said with a soft, gentle smile that made Bilbo’s heart flutter on the inside.

~Shire~

       Bilbo was so excited he could hardly contain himself, Bag End was decorated to the top with garland and little round glass bulbs that Bungo had commissioned for Belladonna by the best glass blowers in all the Shire as a Yule gift their first Yule after they married and when the sun hit them at just the right angle they made beautiful shapes in different colors on the ground, as a young child Bilbo had been fascinated by them, and even now, nearly an adult they still held him in wonder for hours. Tomorrow was the first day of Yule, and as a child Bilbo could remember them alternating which family they visited on the first day, the Tooks, Brandybucks and Bagginses. This was his first time staying home on Yule and Bilbo didn’t really mind, tomorrow Thorin was coming over to spend the first day of the festivities with him and his mother. She was in the kitchen making the wonderful cakes they would eat for the next couple of days, her seed cakes were divine and often boasted by his father to be the best in the Shire, Bilbo had always been glad that he hadn’t had any siblings that he’d had to share the cakes with as a child. She was singing, as she always did during the Yule season, some of her favorite Yule carols and it echoed around the rooms of Bag End. His mother was well known for her singing voice, Bilbo had heard many stories of his mother and how people complained that she would be the perfect hobbit-wife if she would just settle down and not have so many adventures with that wizard. Finally Bungo Baggins did what no other hobbit was able to do, tame the lovely Belladonna and married her after quite a bit of courting. His mother did love to tell some of his father’s courting tales.

       Bilbo sat in the living room in front of the huge roaring fire sewing together the last couple of patches of the quilt. It was his Yule gift for Thorin, he hoped that the patches would remind Thorin of home, he’d found lots of silver and gold scraps of cloth and then remembered the pretty dwarf lady’s face and had used brown thread to sew patterns mixes of diamond shaped jewels and flowers, amongst the brown thread he had woven in yellow colored thread because he remembered one of the few times Thorin had ever talked about his past he had mentioned he had a nephew that had blond hair. It wasn’t a very big quilt, would probably just fit Thorin’s body, but it was Bilbo’s first and Belladonna had promised to help him stuff it full of goose feathers later that day. Quilts were very important to hobbits, they had their own meanings and symbols in them, there were courting quilts and quilts one received when getting married or having a child and it was important to pass along older quilts to newer generation and patch up the older ones with a special meaning. Bilbo had tried to work in lots of symbols of home into Thorin’s quilt; he wanted the dwarf to know he had a home here in the Shire amongst the hobbits as well as a home in Erebor.

       For his mother he’d written some poetry, he’d always been very good at writing poetry, and it tended to be a way one showed their affections while courting but he’d always written his mother poems for Yule, it had become something of a tradition since he had become a tween. “Bilbo, my love,” his mother called, “Why don’t you come help me ice these cakes.” He folded the quilt up and placed it on the chair that sat in front of the fire before scurrying to the kitchen where his mother was.

The whole kitchen smelt like Yule, there was peppermints on the counter nearby and spruces of evergreens lying about for their scent, Belladonna loved the scent of evergreens said it reminded of her of her adventures long ago and of Bungo as well, Bilbo wasn’t sure how a plant could remind you of two very different things but then his mother had always been quite odd and did things in her own ways. The cakes sat upon the window sill to cool in the breeze, snow had begun to cover Hobbiton making it look picturesque and Bilbo smiled. “The icing is over there on that counter, make sure you put more onto the cakes then you do in your own mouth.” Belladonna pointed to the bluish-green bowl that sat on the nearby counter top. He watched as her brown hair swayed down her back as she began to cook again paying her son little mind expecting him to perform the task at hand. She was such a strong woman and Bilbo hoped that he could be just like her, she’d been his hero as a child and it had continued long into his adolescent stage.

~Shire~

Thorin arrived early the next morning just as Bilbo and Belladonna were sitting down for second breakfast and exactly when Bilbo had told him to arrive earlier that week when they were discussing Yule and what the proper etiquette was. Dwarves didn’t celebrate Yule unlike Hobbits and men, and even some elves celebrated their own version of it. Dwarves’ new years were earlier than everyone else’s, it happened when the last moon cycle began of the year and the sun and the moon were in the sky together. It was also Thorin’s birthday. Of course Thorin had told him this after the day had happened, Bilbo had wanted to throw him a late birthday party then as birthdays are important in the Shire, but Thorin had discouraged it, he hadn’t celebrated a birthday since he’d gone into exile as birthdays were a time for family and friends, both of which Thorin had been lacking since his exile. Breakfast was a jovial affair with Belladonna’s scones and muffins, full of laughs as she told Thorin some tales of Bilbo’s childhood that he had failed to mention to Thorin. They talked about the comings and goings of the Shire, who would be getting married to whom next spring, did hear about those rascals over in Buckland stealing from Famer Brook’s crops again, how Paladin would need to grow up soon if he was going to be Thain one day.

After breakfast Bilbo lead Thorin into the living room area where the exchanging of gifts would take place, the quilt he had finished stuffing last night laid beside the chair and Thorin sat two brightly wrapped presents beside his chair and they waited for Belladonna to come in. “I’m here, I’m here.” She said as she hurried in. “Now Thorin, do you understand how the gift giving works?” Thorin nodded, as head of the household Belladonna would give out her presents first and then Bilbo, and then Thorin. Gift giving was always interesting when one was in Tooksborough or with the Baggins as there were lots of heads of households. “For my darling Bilbo,” She reached over and gave him a big kiss.

“Mom,” Bilbo whined, did she really have to treat him like this? He was almost an adult. Thorin chuckled and Bilbo’s cheeks went red. He unwrapped Belladonna’s gift none the less, it was cufflinks, acorn shaped cufflinks like his father used to own. “Thank you; I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re almost an adult now; you’ll need a good pair of cufflinks.” Belladonna chided before handing Thorin his present, seeds, from some of her best flowers from her garden. “I’m sure Bilbo wouldn’t mind helping you plant them in the spring.”

“Thank you mam,” Thorin said as he inspected the seeds.

“Okay, now it’s my turn.” Bilbo said, he handed his mother the poems and drawings that he did.

“Bilbo, these are beautiful.” She gushed looking over the pictures.

“And for you, Thorin.” He gave the dwarf the quilt he had worked on. “I tried to envision your home in Erebor and let you know you have a home here in the Shire as well.” Thorin smiled as he touched the greens and browns mixed in with the golds.

“Thank you, Bilbo, this is very thoughtful.” He said. “For you mam, who makes such wonderful cakes, a new tin pan, I’m sure your old one is getting rather worn with everything you make.” Belladonna laughed as she received the gift. Then Thorin handed Bilbo his wrapped gift, it was oddly shaped. It was a carved figure out of wood, with curly hair and wore no shoes, and in Bilbo’s favorite green vest.

“Is this- is this me?” Bilbo asked looking the carving over, it was very well done with great detail, and it was very beautiful.

“Yes.” Thorin said, “You really liked the carving of my sister and I wanted to do something special for you.” Bilbo smiled as he continued to inspect the design, Thorin was a master craftsman, he could make statues for kings out of gold and yet he lived in the Shire because he wanted to, because he liked the peace and the people.

The rest of the day was filled with merriment and joy, with much singing and laughter and the telling of light hearted stories and food, lots of food that Belladonna and Bilbo had cooked the day before. Thorin stayed late into the evening well past dinner, till the fire was getting low. “Sing us a song from your own people.” Bilbo requested, “You’ve heard lots of our own.”

“There’s a lullaby my mother once sang to me, about a people who were exiled into the wilderness and how they longed for their homeland back. It is a sad tale, but if you do not mind I will sing it to you.” Thorin said he gazed into the fire as he spoke.

“I would like to hear it.” Bilbo encouraged, Belladonna nodded, she had begun to doze off in her own chair and Bilbo knew that it would soon be time for her to go to bed.

“Far over the misty mountains cold,” Thorin sang his voice a rich baritone and deep, and full of sadness. “To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away ere break of day, To seek the pale enchanted gold.” As the dwarf sang Bilbo could see pictures in his head of far off places that he had only imagined in his head, places his mother had talked about when she’d had her own adventures. “The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells, In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hollow halls beneath the fells. For ancient king and elvish lord, There many a gleaming golden hoard, They shaped and wrought, and light they caught, To hide in gems on hilt of swords.” The fire seemed to be making shapes, like magic, it flickered and danced and Bilbo felt enchanted by both it and the song he was listening to. “On silver necklaces they strung, The flowering star, on crowns they hung, The dragon-fire, in twisted wire, They meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over the misty mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old, We must away ere break of day, To find our long forgotten gold. Goblets they carved there for themselves, And harps of gold; where no man dwells, There lay they long, and many a song, Was unheard by man or elves. The pines were roaring on the heights, The wind was moaning in the night, The fire was red, it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light. The bells were ringing in the dale, The men looked up with faces pale, Then dragon’s ire more fierce with fire, Laid low their towers and houses frail. The mountains smoked beneath the moon, The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom, They fled their halls to dying fall, Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. Far over misty mountains grim, to dungeons deep and caverns dim, We must away ere break of day, To win our harps and gold from him!” Bilbo found himself longing for an adventure, to be a hero like old, but more than that he longed to take Thorin’s bitterness away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): Yes the song that Thorin sings is the Misty Mountains song taken straight from the book. I was hoping to get this done a little sooner but family issues just came up and I do not know how much writing I will get done in the next week. It could be a lot because I am trying to escape this universe or it could be none at all. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Edits 1/25/15: I changed the part where Bilbo asks Thorin to Yule, I thought Thorin got uncharacteristically angry there since he hadn't gotten angry mentioning his banishment prior. That's about it, fixed some spelling errors as well.


	4. Chapter Four

 Bilbo was turning thirty-three tomorrow and Belladonna was throwing her son the biggest party since the Old Took died, according to the many rumors Thorin had heard Gandalf the Grey was coming with his fireworks as he was an old friend of Belladonna’s. Apparently they had gone on a great deal of adventures before she had settled down with Bungo Baggins, Bilbo liked to tell him all of his mother’s stories, he had never met the old wizard before, but his grandfather had known him. Wizards were a funny folk, they meddled a lot and gave advice but very rarely did they partake in the action that was going on in the world. There had been a wizard that had lived just to the west of Rohan, Thorin had never bothered to know his name, but he hadn’t helped the people of Rohan when they need him. A small voice in his head informed him that he wasn’t there for his people either, and if he was to be honest with himself he’d thought less about Erebor and his home in this past year than ever before. He felt at peace in the Shire, a peace hadn’t felt since he was a child, part of him was anxious to move on, or at least had been till Bilbo had entered his life again. He had saved the boy during the Fell Winter nearly ten years ago from a wolf but had only seen him sparingly since till about a year ago when Bilbo began to talk to him and ask him questions. And he had answered all of Bilbo’s questions and told him stories of when he lived in Rohan, but never about Beren or the fight against the orcs, losing the boy was still a fresh wound for him, time had eased the pain as had the comforting nature of the Shire, but sometimes in the late nights at the forge when no one was around he’d find himself talking to his former apprentice, teaching him techniques so he wouldn’t be lonely. Bilbo Baggins though was the most magnificent creature Thorin had ever had the pleasure of meeting, he was kind, forgiving, sweet, gentle, and beautiful, simply beautiful with curly honey blond hair and gorgeous light brown eyes. And he wanted to court him, to show the hobbit that he was loved, that he loved him and treasured him.

Thorin rolled the courting bead between his index and thumb looking it over, Bilbo had just enough hair to braid this in, it wasn’t an elaborate bead, not one befitting the suit of a former prince, but it would have to do. The bead was gold, he had collected the shavings throughout his year at the forge. Hobbits didn’t usually request jewelry to be made unless it was a special occasion and Thorin couldn’t afford to buy gold just to buy gold, so he had collected the shavings every time he made another ring for Lobelia Bracegirdle or inset a golden crest for the Tooks. He then carved my heart in the runes of his people, it looked clumsy compared to some of the work he’d seen in Erebor, but he lacked the proper tools necessary to perform such delicate work. All in all he was quite proud of the bead. He would give it to Bilbo tomorrow after the party.

He had learned a while ago that homosexuality didn’t bother hobbits, in fact they encouraged it with the young ones who were just discovering their bodies, and many hobbit lasses and lads had had romps with the same sex as children and were close friends as adults. But marriage between the same sex was forbidden, he’d heard the gossip of hobbits who were petitioning to remove the law claiming it was outdated as there were plenty of hobbits now and their numbers weren’t small. Others shot back that if there was ever another winter like the Fell Winter they would have need of hobbits to procreate. Thorin tried not to have an opinion, he didn’t want to get involved in hobbit politics and he was sure most hobbits would prefer if he kept his nose out of it. When he had first realized he wanted something more from the hobbit lad than just friendship he wasn’t sure what the culture norms were for that, Bilbo even by hobbit standards was still underage, and he was middle age. He’d seen many hobbit weddings, they were quite frequent in the spring time, and they often came to him for wedding rings, and almost all of them were young hobbits. He almost hadn’t made the courting bead, too unsure about Bilbo’s feelings, about hobbit customs and how the lad felt about breaking them that was until three weeks ago when Bilbo had cornered him in the forge and kissed him. He’d never gotten an explanation for it, in fact he really hadn’t seen the lad since, but Belladonna had come in a few nights ago wanting to know his intentions for her son. He had told her that he intended to court him when Bilbo became of age, but only if Bilbo approved. He would never attempt to court someone without their approval first, he’d seen the results when such things occurred. The protective mother hobbit seemed satisfied with that answer and told him that she knew he would treat her son right. It had warmed his heart to hear her say that, sometimes he felt out of place in the world outside the mountain, as if he didn’t have a home. But maybe he could build a new one, here in Hobbiton amongst the hobbits. And what about Erebor, a cruel voice asked in the back of his head, would he just abandon it to its fate? What more could he do? His honor would not allow him to go back, not without knowing that something serious was going on. He could only hope that Ferin was treating their people right.

“Thorin? Are you in here?” Bilbo asked, Thorin immediately pocketed the small bead into a pocket in his pants; it was bad luck, even if Bilbo didn’t know what it was, for him to see it before he officially asked to court him. He then glanced around for his shirt that he had removed a while back when it had gotten hot in the forge earlier that day.

“Yes, something wrong?” Thorin asked still searching for that blasted shirt, where could he have put it?

“Can’t old friends visit each other?” Bilbo asked, Thorin could just barely hear his light footsteps as he came into the forge and stopped standing in the doorway. “Oh,” he heard Bilbo whisper and he dared not to look at the hobbit, his face heating up red. Hobbits were a bit prudish.

“Give me a second, Bilbo,” Thorin said before muttering “The shirt’s around here somewhere.” Bilbo laughed slightly and began to look around for the shirt as well.

Thorin wasn’t paying that much attention as he stood back up from checking underneath the table, he thought he had hung the shirt on the chair and wondered if maybe it had fallen off and ended up underneath the table beside it, he didn’t see Bilbo running up with the shirt in hand till he hit him and ended up sprawled on the floor, the hobbit on top of him. “Oof,” Thorin grunted.

“S-sorry,” Bilbo stammered but Thorin wasn’t really paying attention to the hobbit’s words, he was too consumed by their closeness. Had Bilbo always been this warm? This small? Had their bodies always fit together like this? If he just raised his head slightly he could be kissing him. They were intoxicating thoughts and he knew he shouldn’t be thinking such things, they weren’t even officially courting yet, tomorrow, he could wait one more day, and yet- yet Bilbo had already kissed him. It had been a short affair, he’d been so stunned by the hobbit’s boldness that he’d barely kissed Bilbo back when he ran off, probably out of embarrassment.

Bilbo stood up and offered a Thorin a hand to stand back up with. “I found your shirt.” He informed him. Thorin nodded, accepting the helping hand that was so much smaller than his own, Bilbo’s fingers were much slimmer but didn’t have as many ridges as a dwarf’s hands. It was how they were able to grasp onto the tiniest sliver of a jewel to place into a ring without it slipping out of their grasp.

“Thank you.” Thorin said, trying not to make the atmosphere any more awkward then it was as he slipped the article of clothing over his head and wormed his way through the sleeves.

“Mother says you’re interested in courting me.” Bilbo said, his voice was uncertain and Thorin wondered if the whole reason he had come to the forge today was for the answer to this statement. He was nervous and his hazel eyes never met his own azure eyes.

“That is true; I was planning to ask you tomorrow at your majority.” Thorin said, “I was hoping to court you in proper dwarf fashion if you’ll let me.” And suddenly the shine reentered Bilbo’s eyes and he looked eagerly up at him.

“What does that entail?”

“Well, when you accept my suit tomorrow I shall braid a bead into your hair of my own creation. Then I shall continue to surprise you with gifts and services for however long you wish until we move in together. Most people think that we have long drawn out courting periods filled with strange rituals but we actually like to keep it simple. Usually if someone accepts one’s suit, it means that they are serious and rarely does one break a court.” Thorin explained, it sounded awkward as he tried to explain why dwarves didn’t need so many rituals when it came to courting like elves did or hobbits for that matter. Hobbits did stuff with dancing and flowers and cooking, Thorin wasn’t sure of all the details but he had observed the hobbits for nearly eight years now and he had picked up on certain things.

“Sounds simple enough.” Bilbo said with a wide smile. “Do you think my hair is long enough?” He grasped at a few of his curly strands of hair, it was shorter than most dwarves’ hair, but hobbits didn’t like to keep theirs long unless they were female.

“Yes, I am quite dexterous.” Thorin said wiggling his fingers at Bilbo, and being rewarded with the hobbit’s musical laugh.

“Sounds lovely then.” Bilbo said, “I should go, but I’ll see you tomorrow night at the party. And you’ll dance with me.”

“Why?” Thorin wasn’t very good at hobbit dances, too much crazy footwork and trying to dance around your partner as well. Dwarven dances with partners usually were battle dances and almost looked like a mock battle. Hobbit dances looked like nothing of the sort.

“Well if you’re going to court me dwarf style, I want to court you back hobbit style.” Bilbo said with a coy smile before darting out the forge’s door without another word.

~Shire~

Bilbo’s party was unlike any other party he’d been to, he’d been to plenty of dwarven parties and banquets they were loud like hobbit parties and everybody got drunk and usually fights broke out. He hadn’t been to many parties of men, they never really felt they had much to celebrate, but those he had been too had been full of drinking as well, but fewer fights, mostly people just talked glad to be alive. At festivals though, men of villages would come together and display wares and those who were musically inclined would play and the women would make cakes and other hot pastries for people to enjoy and if they were lucky the traders would be rolling through and they would have a person who could eat fire for entertainment or a story teller. It was from a story teller that Thorin first heard of the tale his apprentice was named for Beren and Luthien, an interesting story. Hobbit parties included a lot of food and dancing, human festivals sometimes included dancing but Thorin had never participated in that part of it, and drinking. Hobbits brewed some of the best ale from the wheat fields in the South Farthing that Thorin had ever tasted in his life, since he’d been to Erebor at least. Dwarven stuff was stronger than this, but nowhere near as sweet. But the strangest thing Thorin had found so far was the idea that whoever was celebrating a birthday gave out the presents instead of receiving them. In all other cultures he’d experience so far it was always the other way around, whomever had the birthday received the presents. Though Thorin could see the merits in this idea, instead of receiving gifts once a year, you received them whenever you went to someone else’s birthday party, and you could get quite a lot of presents that way.

The wizard Gandalf could be summed up in one word, odd. He wore a great floppy gray hat and laughed a lot, especially when he was around the hobbits. He wore a very big gray robe with no weapon to be seen and leaned on a very long stick that Thorin guessed to be his wizard staff. The wizard mostly saw to the fireworks which were spectacular and breathtaking. The colors shone in bright greens and yellows and blues and sometimes purples and reds against the night sky, in different shapes and sometimes they spelt out words. They reminded him of the spectacular fireworks displays that Thrór would host for Durin’s Day back in Erebor.

“Magnificent aren’t they?” Belladonna said coming up beside him, “He used to light them at my father’s midsummer eve parties he used hold in Tooksbourgh many years ago.” Thorin nodded, he’d heard stories of the Old Took’s parties, how grand and magnificent they were and how all of the Shire would come, even the Baggins who weren’t very fond of the Tooks at all. It had been at one of these parties that Belladonna had met Bungo from what Bilbo told him.

“Does he make the fireworks or does he get them from somewhere?” Thorin asked still gazing up at the fading colors of light.

“He gets them from Dale I think.” Thorin sucked in his breath, Dale was right beside Erebor. Their biggest trading partner. The humans of Dale often made toys and such, their markets were plentiful and everybody was prosperous. He had enjoyed walking through Dale’s markets watching the humans sell their wares, seeing what caught his eye. Some of the human toymakers were as good as dwarven ones. “But I am sure that he makes his own modifications to them.” Belladonna continued as if she hadn’t noticed Thorin’s tension.

“I see.” Thorin replied, Belladonna gave him a funny look but said no more on the subject.

“Bilbo is looking for you.” She said, “He said something about a dance.” Thorin blushed trying not to think about how clumsy his feet would be tonight. He’d already drank more of the South Farthing ale then most of the hobbits tonight.

“Where is he?”

“Out with the other dancers.” She said with a smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Bilbo was dancing on his own when Thorin arrived at the area free of the tents and tables that filled the other space of the commons of Hobbition. He was doing a jig of sorts and many of the other hobbits were just sitting back and watching him. Bilbo was amazing though, his dance, whatever it was, matched the beat of the music, his feet would kick and his hands would clap and Thorin was fully memorized as he watched him. He could remember one of the first times he had seen Bilbo dance, it had been at a wedding soon after the Fell Winter, it had amazed him then how hobbits could bounce back so quickly after seeing all that death and starvation. It was a way no other race could. Bilbo turned his head, looking straight at Thorin and his grin which was already huge became even bigger. He waved for Thorin to join him and Thorin found his feet wandering on their own accord towards the lovely hobbit siren. Bilbo grabbed his hands and began to teach him how to dance. “Kick right towards my left.” Bilbo said his smile never breaking or his rhythm in the song. Kick right, then kick left, kick right, then kick left, Thorin chanted in his head. His right hand grasped Bilbo’s left while his other arm seemed to flop uselessly. “Now grab my right hand spin away from me and continue to kick.” Bilbo instructed grabbing Thorin’s left hand and spinning so that they now faced opposite of each other, their hands trapped behind their back, doing crazy fancy footwork that Thorin was still having issues grasping. But he was enjoying himself, he was just relaxed enough from all the hobbit ale to not be embarrassed by looking like a donkey trying to dance, and dancing with Bilbo was like dancing with no other. The spectating hobbits kept clapping to the beat they didn’t or were too drunk to care that Bilbo was dancing with him.

“Did you make this?” Bilbo asked in awe when Thorin presented the bead to him, most of the hobbits had cleared out hours ago, in fact Thorin was pretty sure that the sun would be coming up soon though he wasn’t entirely sure he had never been good at reading the stars either as navigation or to tell time. It was a dwarf thing he was sure, they were too used to being underground. Thorin nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t have the money to afford gemstones, most courting bead have a stone that reminds the wearer of the person who gave it to them.” Thorin admitted, “The runes means my heart.” As the heir to Erebor the beads he should have given Bilbo would have had sapphire inlayed into them as that was the official stone of the line of Durin. But sapphires were rare west of the Misty Mountains and Thorin hadn’t told Bilbo yet of his former status in life. He wasn’t sure how the hobbit would take it, he was well aware that hobbits had no royalty themselves, they were ruled by an elected mayor, a Thain which was always a Took and a Master of Buckland, which was always a Brandybuck, but they did understand it and he was sure that they might have an issue with a former prince forging wheel axles for them.

“It doesn’t need any.” Bilbo said, he held the bead in between his thumb and forefinger marveling over Thorin’s work. “I’ve never seen anything so intricately done.”

“The craftsmen of Erebor are known for their intricate designs.” Thorin admitted, “And I had one of the best teachers.”

“You were a dwarf of nobility weren’t you?” Bilbo said suddenly, Thorin almost had to take a minute to process what the young hobbit had said. “It’s kind of obvious Thorin, you know how to speak diplomatically and not offend anyone, you haven’t even managed to offend the Bracegirdles and everyone knows that they are the most querulous family in the entire Shire. And you understand our customs and our hierarchy system without too much tutelage.”

“Yes, yes I was. It is custom for dwarves of all rank and class to learn how to craft with our hands. To not know how to do so is to be disgraces among all dwarves. We take it very seriously. When I was exiled, I had to learn new ways of doing things but I knew all the basics.” Thorin said.

“Can you braid it in?” Bilbo asked holding out the bead. “I would like everyone to know we are courting.” Thorin nodded, taking his gift back into his hand and pulling Bilbo into his lap before collecting strands of his hair beside his right ear. It warmed his heart to hear Bilbo say he wanted everyone to know they were courting, he’d been afraid that he’d want to keep it a secret, afraid of what the other hobbits would say. But it seemed Bilbo had inherited his mother’s lack of care for what the other hobbits thoughts and would followed his heart. Thorin smiled the whole time he braided Bilbo’s hair and when he was done he turned Bilbo around and kissed him. His lips were soft, just as soft as they had been a few weeks ago when he’d stolen the kiss from Thorin, and tasted sweet and sugary like the cake that had been served at the party hours ago. Fingers threaded themselves into his long hair as he pressed down on soft shoulders. It felt like Gandalf’s fireworks were going off into his head and it was the best feeling possible. He would follow Bilbo wherever the hobbit lead him, he would live the rest of his life here in the peace of the Shire so long as he was never separated from this marvelous creature who had deemed him worthy of his affection.

~Shire~

Thorin received gifts of poetry, written by Bilbo, cakes and cookies, or flowers almost once a week after that and in return Thorin would carve things out of wood that he thought Bilbo would enjoy, a carving of himself, a carving of Bilbo, a carving of a hobbit hole similar to the one he’d seen many years ago at the toy stand with Dís, they were mere toys or trinkets but Bilbo liked them and treasured them. When he took a trip to Buckland he bought three ounces of gold, part of it was going towards wedding rings commissioned by the Baggins family for two members of their family, but part of it was going for his own ring for Bilbo. He wanted to make him one to mark six months of courtship. As much as carving wood with his own hands made him feel like he was giving something more important, he felt that the ring would be more special. His grandfather had once had a ring that had had seven gemstones in it, it was a beautiful ring made who knows when ages ago, Thorin was sure it would show Bilbo how much he loved him if he made a ring like that but it was ostentatious for him. Hobbits didn’t like gaudy jewelry; simple things were what they preferred like everything else in life. He was thinking about carving a crown of daisies on it, he’d seen a lot of hobbit gents make them for the hobbit lasses, and though he’d never had partaken in such a task he was sure Bilbo would like the gesture. If he was king of Erebor and Bilbo was to be his royal consort he would make him the most beautiful crown of daisy out of gold and the hobbit wouldn’t be able to object because he’d make it look so life like. He liked that dream, he liked it very much, but he would never go back to Erebor, and though he repeated that many times to himself he didn’t wholly believe in it.

“Thorin, you in here?” he heard Bilbo shout from door. Thorin glanced down at the drawing in front of him, he’d been designing Bilbo’s ring when he’d slipped into thought.

“Yes, I’m over here.” He said picking the papers up and shuffling them on the table so that the Baggins rings were on top. He wanted it to be a surprise and sometimes Bilbo got nosey as to what he was working on. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” He admitted, threading his fingers through his hair trying to work out the knots in them. He hadn’t really gotten dressed today was Wednesday and as an unspoken rule the hobbits generally left him alone on Wednesdays so he could work uninterrupted on the commissions from earlier in the week. Even Bilbo left him alone most Wednesdays so he could work.

“I know, you’re probably busy, and I- I just wanted- I just wanted to ask you a question.” The hobbit looked down at his overly large bare feet with lots of curly honey blond hair growing out of them. “Well a request is probably the better way to put it. Or maybe a-”

“Bilbo, just tell me.” He said kindly, trying to help the slightly embarrassed hobbit.

“Move in with me.” Move in with Bilbo? To Bag End? To live with Bilbo, for the rest of their lives, which would be long and prosperous and peaceful. Full of peace, he could live with that.

“Yes.” Thorin said watching as Bilbo’s face went from nervousness to joy in a split second before the hobbit launched himself onto Thorin nearly knocking the sturdy dwarf over as he kissed him. Thorin threaded his fingers through the curly mess Bilbo called hair, feeling the metal bead as he did so. Bilbo’s fingers slipped underneath his shirt, running up his chest eliciting a groan from Thorin.

“We should move this somewhere else.” Thorin said, having sex was hot enough, having sex in his forge would probably roast them.

“Mmm,” Bilbo hummed in agreement as Thorin picked him up, he locked his ankles around Thorin’s waist, resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder while sucking at his neck while Thorin carried him through the side door to the small living space he had lived in until now, quickly shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (The part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): I want to truly say how sorry I am for the delay of this chapter, for those who read my previous author's note in which I told you all the woes that had befallen me this summer so far, my sister is out of the hospital and is doing better. I am also blaming Star Wars for this delay, your video games are addicting. Chapter Five is almost finished so it should be up soon if I can achieve the will power to stop playing Old Republic.  
> Also I found this chapter insanely difficult to write, it's just too happy.  
> Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> Re-edits 1/27/15: Minor changes, mostly spelling errors.


	5. Chapter Five

“Ori, hurry up!” Kíli whispered, his arms were full of sausage links, bread, some of his uncle’s kitchen’s famous jams, and even he’d managed to snag some butter, they were all carefully wrapped and ready to be distributed to the people of Erebor. It had been his brother Fíli’s idea to start giving the poor food from their uncle’s stores, he had plenty of it and these items wouldn’t be missed, and the people of Erebor would be grateful and wouldn’t starve for another day. Life in Erebor had gotten worse for the lower classes as the years passed, under Thrór, his great-grandfather, things got bad, Thrór craved loads of gold and raised taxes, cut wages, and made the mines an unsafe place to work, but under Frerin things got worse, severe punishment was handed out for the littlest offences, people were afraid that his secret police would knock on their homes and take away them or family and loved ones, the mines had become a place of punishment where one would serve for anywhere from six months to life in the un-safest conditions ever, Frerin had insulted the neighboring kingdoms so much that Bard and Thranduil had cut off trade three years ago, and the people had begun to starve. Dwarves don’t grow their own food unless they absolutely have to and when they do it’s usually mushrooms and fungus and such that grow in caves and don’t require much light. But Frerin began importing food for the nobles from Gondor and Rohan and other kingdoms of men that he had not insulted yet, lavish feasts were held once a week and the nobles were content, well most were. His mother her Royal Highness Dís daughter of Thraín, Princess Under the Mountain, was not, she did not like to see the people suffering. Her husband Víli had created a rebellious movement soon after Frerin took power, and he himself had only been a baby when Frerin had orchestrated his assassination and never knew the man that had captured his mother’s heart. And she had taken up his mantle secretly.

“Ori, come on.” He hissed looking back at the red haired darrowdam behind him, her arms were full of food as well, but she had hesitated on a corner between two corridors and she kept glancing down that particular corridor. “What is it?” She shook her head and Kílli backed up to see what she was looking at; guards, Frerin’s personal guards which meant his uncle was not far behind. “Go back, go back and take the long way.” She nodded her beads that dangled from her beard shaking and clacked slightly. They were going to get caught and he couldn’t let her get caught, he had protection being nobility and Frerin’s nephew, she had none. She was the daughter of a baker who had died long ago leaving her to be raised by two elder brothers, she was nobody to Frerin, but she meant the world to Kíli’s brother.

“Who's there?” One of the guards shouted, Ori turned around and ran while Kíli continued in the direction he was going, a little faster than before, he’d meet up with her in the lower levels.

~Erebor~

Fíli waited impatiently as Balin, his mother’s chief advisor, Dwalin, his mother’s personal guard and his mother talked over the wooden table about an expedition. An expedition to find his uncle, his other uncle, the one who was not an evil king of Erebor, the true and rightful king of Erebor, banished by his great-grandfather Thrór when he was just a baby. No one had heard from Thorin though in seventy years, not since he left the mountain, he could be dead for all anyone knew. Twenty years ago, stories spread from the south of a great warrior, a human warrior who was driving the orcs back from the lands of the south, beside him rode a dwarven warrior, an unnamed dwarven warrior, who if the stories were to be believed saved the king of Rohan and desired nothing from him but to protect the human. Many of the dwarves of Erebor was convinced it was their lost prince, but no proof had ever been found that it was him, and the human warrior had been slain in battle with all his other warriors, their bodies had been found in a battle field of blood but no one had ever found the body of the dwarf’s. Some believed he was dead, others believed that he was waiting, waiting for the right time to strike against Frerin and rescued. Some of the dwarves considered him to be a demigod of some sorts, to the level of Durin the Deathless.

“It’ll have to be a small group, no more than fifteen, but large enough to make their way across Middle Earth without too much problems.” Dís said when Fíli tuned back into the conversation.

“Frerin will notice if that many dwarves leave at once. He is very tightly controlling the gates now.” Balin pointed out. Fíli leaned back in his chair and tried to suppress his audible sigh, he was supposed to meet Kíli and Ori in the lower levels soon to help pass out the food the other two had snuck out of his uncle’s kitchens, but it seemed that this meeting would go on forever.

“Something wrong, boy?” Dwalin asked turning to look at Fíli, Balin and Dís had stopped talking as well to look at him; all three gave him this look that told him that they expected him to sit through this and not put up a fuss. He’d heard it for as long as he could remember he’d be King of Erebor one day, King Under the Mountain, that he needed to live up to that title, that Thorin hadn’t been acting like this when he was this age, that Kíli was a bad influence, Fíli loved his brother, they were very close, closer than Thorin and Frerin had ever been despite the same age difference between them.

“No, nothing at all Mister Dwalin.” Fíli replied, Dís eyed him for a moment but then turned back to Balin and Dwalin and nothing more was said on the matter.

“I can’t go with you; Frerin will find my absence suspicious. Fíli, I want you to lead this mission.” Dís said. Fíli blinked, was he hearing things correctly? Had his mother just said what he thought she just said? He was barely seventy, barely of age, how was he supposed to lead a company of dwarves to find his uncle, his uncle who they didn’t even know if he was alive or not, surely Balin and Dwalin more than capable of leading a mission such as this?

“Are you- are you sure?” Fíli asked when he could finally find his voice again.

“You must gain leadership experience Fíli, one day you will be king.” Balin said, “Dwalin and I will be there, we will help you.” The balding gruff dwarf nodded with affirment.

“Kíli will want to go with me.” Fíli said, his brother followed him everywhere, from the time that Kíli could crawl he had followed his older brother, never hesitating, never questioning, and they had gotten sometimes into the worse sort of trouble for it but Kíli had always been with him. Ori would want to go too; she had always trailed behind him and his brother, ever since they met her when she became Balin’s apprentice many years ago. He would have to talk to her about it though, he didn’t want to put her in harm’s way, he wasn’t sure he could bare it if something happened to her. He’d wanted to tell his mother about his courtship with her, he should tell Dori first though, Ori’s eldest brother. He was extremely protective of her, but he was familiar enough with the princes that he might be okay they snuck around his back for the past two years. if he didn’t he could always go to Nori next, the thief was a bit less protective than Dori, though slightly more dangerous and he knew Ori could make her own decisions. He wanted to tell his uncle too, butit was not secret that his uncle had talks with Locard, the king of the Firebeards about marriage to one of his daughters, he had two, one who was nearly twice Fíli’s age and one that was thirty years younger than him. It was the reason he had decided to court Ori so soon in the first place.

“I know.” Her voice was sad but resigned, she knew the risks they were taking, the risks her boys would take and she hoped that in the end it would be worth all of them.

“It’ll be a while before you leave; there are many preparations that must be made.” Balin said, Fíli nodded.

~Erebor~

Something didn’t sit right with Kíli, something about those guards being in that corridor, where they shouldn’t be, they were always near his uncle, always. It didn’t make sense for them to be anywhere else, unless Uncle had been down that corridor. But why? It was in the lower levels of the city, very much out of the way and not ostentatious like his uncle liked. Frerin liked fanfare and to wave his wealth around to those who could not afford such things. He’d delivered his food to Bombur who would pass it out to the people who needed it before he whisked Ori with him to solve the mystery of the guards. “I’m supposed to be meeting Fíli after the food drop.” Ori protested as he grabbed her hands and lead her through the passageways and stairs up to where they’d had to separate before. “Why are we here?”

“The guards,” Kíli whispered, he put a finger to his lips to signal that they had to be quiet as he peeked around the corner; the guards were still there, still watching, though neither of them as vigilant as they had been before. He turned to Ori and signed to her in Iglishmȇk that there was a corridor parallel to the one the guards were on and that he was pretty sure there would be a room adjacent to the one they were guarding. With any luck one of the kings of olds secret tunnels would be there and they would be able to find out what was being guarded. Ori nodded. These were some of the oldest corridors in Erebor, and the old kings had secret tunnels built in between the homes of the dwarves so that the people would have a quick escape in case of an invading army, supposedly the tunnels lead to outside the mountain but Kíli had never found an end to them before, and most of the tunnels were sealed off over the years, in fact most people didn’t even know they existed and he was betting on Frerin not having a clue.

“I don’t like this.” Ori said as she lifted her skirt to avoid it dragging in the inches of dust they lay on the ground, when was the last time anyone had been here? Kíli ignored her, she always followed them no matter what she said. “These tunnels and corridors were abandoned for a reason, be careful where you walk.” She was always warning him and Fíli about something, but he had learned long ago to heed her warnings, she usually knew what she was talking about and when they didn’t listen things usually went bad. He would be careful where he stepped. “What did Princess Dís want Fíli for?” Ori was always formal when she talked about those of higher rank besides Fíli and Kíli, she knew them too well, and she was close to courting his brother. He wondered what his uncle would say about that, it was known among the nobles that he was looking into the two Firebeard princesses who had rich dowries that would make him even richer, and Ori, Ori had nothing to offer but her love for Fíli. She was Balin’s apprentice, a scribe, nothing more.

Kíli pressed against the back wall in different places looking for the door, the hidden doors that one had to press to find. Ingenious things these doors, dwarf doors where the best though and they could remain hidden for centuries without anyone knowing about them. Ah, there it was. He pressed harder on a certain part of the wall feeling it push forward. “Ori, this way.” The darrowdam followed him, she was still holding up her skirt slightly as if she didn’t really remember why she was doing it, more focused on not tripping, she was a klutz, though Kíli supposed it was part of her appeal to his brother. Girls had never been his thing, nor had it really been Fíli’s till two years ago when he and Ori first kissed.

“The matter concerning my brother is no longer pressing, find him if it suits you. I’ll pay you. There is more I wished to speak to you about.” That was Frerin’s voice; it came from the other side of the tunnel wall. So his uncle had come to these parts of the city to speak about his other uncle, the one nobody talked about except in whispers, the one Kíli had grown up listening to as a bedtime story, Thorin. Bofur and Bombur often talked about how he spared them from fifty lashes when they were just lads, younger than he was now, and how his saving them had caused his banishment. Bofur was his mother’s lieutenant when it came to the lower parts of the city, where the common people lived; he looked out for them, ran small operations to make their lives a little better and always had his mother’s back. “It’s my nephew.”

“Which one?” The voice was harsh and raspy yet deep and commanding all at the same time, it made Kíli’s skin want to crawl and Ori didn’t look much better.

“The eldest, he came of age recently.” Frerin responded, he sounded flippant as if this discussion was beneath him, Kíli could almost imagine his uncle looking at his nails on one of his hands while he rested his head on the other while shouting bored and waving to his guards to remove the commoner from his sight as they tried to plead for mercy in front of him. Kíli had seen the act many times, had felt the anger build up inside his chest but knew there was nothing he could do about it, not yet. “But his mother has had too much influence on him. He is soft and weak. I need him to be hard and strong if he is to continue the line of Durin. I want you to grab him, break him, and then make him into something new so that Fíli son of Víli no longer exists. Make him into my perfect heir.” Ori whimpered beside him, while he curled his own hand into a fist. He wouldn’t let his uncle lay a single hand on his brother, not if it was the last thing he did. They had to warn his mother, they had to get Fíli out of the mountain.

“Sounds easy enough.” The voice replied, “How much?”

“Three hundred gold pieces.”

“Consider it done then.”

“Come on Ori, we’ve got to go.” Kíli whispered tugging at the girl’s arm trying to lead her back into the other room. She allowed herself to be lead, but she seemed out of it, as if she wasn’t wholly there, she was probably thinking about all the ways his uncle’s mysterious visitor could destroy Fíli. “Don’t think about it, we’ll never let him hurt Fee, okay?” Ori nodded.

~Erebor~

 Fíli smiled as he saw Kíli and Ori walk up the stairs together, when he had gotten out of the meeting late he had hoped they weren’t mad at him, but they hadn’t been there, the drop must have taken longer than expected. Now that he saw them, he saw the worried look on their face. “Mom in there?” Kíli asked pushing past him, Fíli frowned but nodded and turned to Ori who looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

 “What’s wrong, Äzyungäl?” Fíli asked cupping Ori’s cheek, her big brown eyes gazed into his own hazel colored eyes. She pressed herself into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her and held her. He had to tell her about the mission, about how they wouldn’t see each other for a while, ask her if she’d wait for him, tell her he didn’t want her to come. Mahal, she was beautiful and he’d been a fool when he was younger for not seeing it. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head and continued to just hold her. They didn’t get a lot of time to spend together just the two of them, as much as he loved his brother, Kíli didn’t allow for a lot of alone time with Ori and when Kíli wasn’t being a third wheel he was in the upper part of the city and she was in the lower. “Ori, can we talk?” Her brown eyes flashed in fear but she nodded and he pulled her off into a side room where they would be alone. “Ori, Mother wants to go find Uncle Thorin and bring him back to Erebor.” Ori nodded.

“I heard Nori mentioning something about it.” Ori said, Fíli snorted, figured Dwalin would have mentioned something like this to his lover. What an interesting tale theirs was, a guard and a thief. He didn’t know all the details of their star crossed romance (Dwalin would box him upside the head if he heard Fíli refer to him as that,) just that Dwalin had chased the notorious thief for a good many years before finally catching him and then screwing his brains out. He might have made up a little bit of that story.

“I am leading the mission. We don’t know where Uncle Thorin is though, it could take some time to find him, and there are some pretty remote places in Middle Earth.” Fíli continued. “I want you to stay here Ori, I want you to be safe.” She pulled away from him, there was anger in her brown eyes that he’d seen directed at Kíli sometimes when he went too far or Dori when he got too over protective but never had he seen it directed at him. She wasn’t the pushover she made everyone think she was, she was quite capable of holding her own if the need was great enough.

“Fíli Durinson, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say I’ll be safer in this mountain under your demented uncle’s rule than out there in the wild. You know what he’s like; you know what he’d do to me if he found out about us. I have every right to go out there and help you find your uncle! And don’t you dare say a woman can’t handle herself in the wild because I will march in there and tell you mother and she’ll box your ears, Fíli.” Her hands shook with rage and Fíli just let her yell at him, he knew she’d be angry with him for his choices but he was going to stick by them.

“I know you can handle yourself Ori, but I- I don’t want to be in the middle of a fight and be distracted because you are there too.” Fíli admitted, “Plus you’re not even of age yet, you’re still sixty-eight.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Fíli, I know for a fact Kíli will be going on this quest of yours and he’s only sixty-five.” Ori hissed, her hand raised like she was about to slap him, but she didn’t.

“I can’t stop Kíli from coming.” Another earned glare from Ori. He took a deep breath before he opened his mouth to say the final nail on the coffin for her, he would face the consequences of his words, but he’d face them knowing that she was safe in the mountain. “I- I don’t want you to come, Ori. And as the leader my decision is final.”

“Is that it then? You don’t want me to come with you and there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you change your mind? What if this takes years Fíli? What if when you get back there’s no Erebor for you to rule or your uncle because your other uncle has destroyed it all? What if I am no longer here?” Ori was no longer yelling and Fíli wished she would, he could handle the yelling and the anger, this quiet and calm rage was almost unbearable. He wanted to wrap her in his arms again and hold her and tell everything was going to be alright, tell her that he loved her, that they would see each other again, that she would be there when he returned.

“Ori I- I love you. And I never want anything bad to happen to you, and on this journey, I- I can’t guarantee your safety.” Fíli whispered, he reached out to touch Ori’s beard, a beard with beads he had made dangling down, her beautiful brown orbs softened.

“You stupid, daft prince, you can’t even guarantee my safety in the mountain.” She said but her words lacked their previous bite and Fíli knew that she may not have forgiven him yet but she wasn’t as angry anymore.

~Erebor~

 “Nori, I have to do something. I can’t let him go out there by himself.” Ori said to the middle child of the sibling Ri as they were affectionately called. Nori was a lot more open to Ori being able to do things herself then their eldest brother Dori who had practically raised her after their parents were killed in the mines when she had been just a little lass. She respected her eldest brother for that, for his sacrifices trying to make sure that she was happy in such troubling times, but he was extremely over protective.

“He won’t be out there by himself, old mum.” Nori said, “Dwalin and Balin will be going with him and I’m sure Kíli will be going, and I’m going, and-”

“You’re going!” Ori nearly shouted, how come her stupid thief of a brother got to go? Because he didn’t need Dwalin’s permission to go on the quest, because he was an adult, because he was a boy, and girls were so scarce. “You get to go and I’m told by Fíli that he doesn’t want me to go!” She wanted to punch someone, and it really wasn’t fair to take it out on Nori, he hadn’t told her that she couldn’t go.

“Dori’s going too.” Nori almost squeaked and Ori wasn’t sure she could get any angrier; she was being left in Erebor not only by her best friends and the love of her life, but also by both her brothers. And Fíli expected her to still be around when he came back? She didn’t want to be left behind; she didn’t want to spend years wondering when everyone she loved was coming back, when she would see them again, if she would ever see them again. She didn’t want to grow old wishing she’d been there when everyone she loved died, wishing she had been there with them, wondering that if she had been there maybe she could have stopped it all.

“Take me with you.” She whispered, “Please Nori, let me go with you.” She had to go with them; she wasn’t going to just sit back anymore. She couldn’t just wait. She’d follow them if she had to, she’d wander the earth as well hoping to one day find them.

“Ori, I don’t know, Dori would have my head, and you said that Fíli told you that you couldn’t come.” Nori said scratching one of his three hair triangle things that Ori had never figured out why her brother wore them except to look ostentatious.

“I’ll follow you.” Ori said, “I’ll go to the Gray Mountains and live there and make sure that you never find me again. I’ll leave and never come back.”

“Ori” Nori said his voice tense but she cut him off she didn’t want to hear excuses why she couldn’t go.

“I overheard a conversation, well Kíli and I did, but it was Frerin talking to someone, and- and Nori, they were talking about hurting Fíli. Torturing him and twisting him because he feels Fíli is too weak to be king right now and he won’t have his heir sympathizing with the commoners. I don’t want to lose him, Nori. I have to protect him, even if he doesn’t know why I’m doing it.”

“Okay,” Nori said but Ori continued on as if she didn’t hear him, telling him all the reasons that she had to go. Because she loved Fíli, because she loved her brothers, because she wouldn’t have any friends and she’d be alone, because she’d probably end up in the mines before they got back because she would have no means to provide for herself, Balin was her master and without him she didn’t have an apprenticeship. “Ori, Ori, stop!”

“It’s true, I won’t.”

“I know that, look I’ll help you, but I think you’re going to have to use a disguise. Fíli’s not going to change his mind.” Ori nodded, “And that means including Bofur, he’s the best disguise master around.” Bofur would help her, he was a nice guy and always went out of his way to help people and didn’t ask too many questions, plus he would make sure everyone left her alone out in the wild. She would have to disguise as a boy, Nori hadn’t said as much but it was obvious, and there were certain things that the others would be bound to notice that would give away her secret. In fact it would probably be a miracle even with Nori and Bofur’s help if they didn’t discover it.

“Okay.” Ori said.

~Erebor~

 “You know you’ll have to take out your beads.” Bofur said, “They’re a dead giveaway as to who you are.” Ori lightly touched the beads she wore on her beard, many of them had been made by Fíli over the past couple of years, they would give her away and she knew it, but she’d hoped somehow she’d be able to keep wearing them. Her last link to him, sure they’d be on the quest together but he wouldn’t know her, she’d be someone else to him, a stranger.

“Can I- can I keep them with me?” she asked quietly, her fingers fumbling as she already began to remove one of her two braids from her beard, a silver bead with two tiny sapphire gemstones fell into her hand, Fíli’s first courting bead. She twirled the bead in between her index finger and her thumb, examining it. The craftsmanship that Fíli had put into this single object, all the love and devotion he had for her he’d put in this single bead. He’d given her this bead two years ago not long after she’d turned sixty-six when Frerin had started to talk about the  princesses of the Firebeards that Fíli would one day marry, he’d wanted her to know that she was the one he was interested in not the Firebeard princesses. ‘You’re the queen of my heart’ he’d told her, ‘and no one will take that away from us.’ At the time she’d been scared, scared that Fíli would have to abandon his courtship of her, that Frerin would find out but she had accepted his suit anyway hoping with just a faint hope that their love would last.

She didn’t try to stop the tears from falling down her face, it was good to let them fall now, for her to get out all these emotions, it would make the journey that much easier. The trip didn’t begin for another two weeks but she’d have to be Loni now, Bofur’s wife Lorti’s cousin. She’d written a letter to Fíli explaining that Dís had needed her to do some undercover work and that she had decided to start on the mission right away and would not be able to see him off. She’d sent it by courier to Kíli this morning; he would make sure his brother received the message. She had tried to convey her love to him with her words and the portrait of him she’d drawn. She didn’t want him to think she’d break their courting over this; she didn’t want him to think that she was really angry. She just wanted him to know that she loved him and that nothing would change that.

“If you wore them on some twine or a chain, I don’t see why it would be a problem.” The kindly dwarf responded with a reassuring smile. “We’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t fall out.” Ori nodded, she placed the bead down onto a nearby table before starting on the next braid, this one contained her House Ri bead, her family’s bead made for her by her father before his death, she’d never taken that one out either except to braid it in her beard when she’d decided to braid two braids into her beard instead of one. Her hands shook almost uncontrollably when she began to remove the beads from her hair, these had been gifts from her brothers, one of them, a very old one had been the last thing she’d ever received from her mother before her passing, it was a golden bead decorated with rubies and sapphires marking Clan Ri as decedents from the line of Durin and of the Fire Beards who were an ancient group of dwarves that had lived east of the Misty Mountains in the ancient dwarven city of Nogrod which had been destroyed at the end of the First Age.

Bofur stepped closer to her and held her hands steady as she tried to remove her hair braids. She had shorter hair than most dwarven females but she liked it that way, it was easy to keep up with and didn’t get caught in stuff. But it took deft fingers to unbraid the few braids she’d managed to keep in it and her shaking hands weren’t doing it.

“Thank you, Bofur.” She said when all her braids were out. Bofur picked up the comb that had been on the table and began to comb out Ori’s hair and beard so that he could redesign how she looked.

“It’s not a problem, lass.” Bofur said with a gentle smile. “I can understand your determination to come with me. Lorti wanted to come as well but with a babe on the way we couldn’t risk it.” Ori nodded, she was very familiar with Bofur’s wife as Lorti was a childhood friend of Nori’s.

~Dale~

They needed a plan, it wouldn’t be productive to just wander around Middle Earth till they came across Uncle Thorin, they needed a plan, a list of places to check and ask around and an order in which to do it. Rohan was a very tempting place to start because of the rumors of the dwarf warrior that had been there twenty years ago. But then again that was twenty years ago and Thorin was probably there no longer. So if he had been there which way had he gone? East into Gondor where there would be plenty of work and orcs to fight? Or West into the wild? Fíli shook his head and suppressed a groan as he tried to figure out the inner workings of his uncle’s mind, one that he had never met. And he couldn’t focus on that entirely because Ori was weighing down on his mind, she’d sent him a note via Kíli two weeks ago telling him that she wouldn’t be around because she was doing some undercover work for his mother. He knew she had been upset with him, but he hadn’t realized just how upset. She hadn’t even seen him off, he’d had no goodbye with her. What if he didn’t come back? What if when he came back she was no longer around like she threatened? He tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on only the task at hand but somehow the redhead darrowdam kept pushing her way back into his mind. It didn’t help that Loni, Bofur’s wife’s cousin who had been a last minute addition to the group because he’d been fighting with the king’s guards and now had a death mark on him in Erebor, had a similar hair color as her. He hadn’t spoken much to the lad, he was younger the Kíli but kept close to Bofur and Nori in fact Fíli wasn’t sure he’d spoken two words to the lad.

“We need a miracle.” He muttered to himself as he raised his tanker of whatever alcoholic drink this human pub had provided to him, he really hadn’t been paying attention when Kíli had brought it over.

“Have some hope.” Kíli said, “Let’s start in Rohan and work our way somewhere else. People are bound to have some sort of information. He’s a dwarf and there can’t be many of those around in those regions.” Fíli nodded, his brother made sense, he looked over at Balin who nodded in agreement as well.

“There’s a man here, says he has information on what we’re looking for.” Said Bofur coming back from the bar with another drink in his hand, behind him was a man dressed in all gray and carrying a staff in his hands. Fíli was immediately suspicious of the man, no one was supposed to know of their quest to find Thorin, no one outside of this quest and his mother at least.

“And what do you know?” Fíli asked his hand reaching for his axe that he kept handy in his boot.

“That you Fíli son of Víli should be more trusting with those you love. Love is the greatest ally you shall ever have.” The old man said there was something about his voice; it seemed to ring with power and it scared him almost. This man was not to be trifled with lightly there was more to him than what met the eye, and yet Fíli also felt he could trust him, that this man would not betray them to his uncle. “I know where Thorin is, and I will take you to him. For far too long has darkness loomed over Erebor.”

“Who are you?” Kíli asked.

“I am Gandalf the Grey.” The man proclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): Really wanted to make up for the long delay of Chapter Four. I found Chapter Five much easier to write for some reason, I guess i just like angst. I like fem Ori, and I really like Ori and Fili together, I'm not sure what other pairing will play a major role. I know I put Bofur with an OC and Dwalin with Nori (I like the thief and guard thing) but I'm not sure yet how important those couples will be. Ori and Fili though will play a role.  
> I would like to thank all of you who have sent in reviews and kudos, they are my only form of payment and they let me know whether or not I'm doing a good job. Please keep sending them in.
> 
> Re-edits: 1/27/15: Added in some information about Dwalin and Nori's relationship. Spelling changes mostly other then that, and clarifying somethings that seemed unclear.


	6. Chapter Six

Black mist swirled around Bilbo obscuring all other details of the room and it’s other occupants, but the hobbit remained unobstructed. He looked bruised and singed and his hands were tied behind his back, but he stared up at someone with defiance in his eyes that made Thorin feel proud for some reason. “You will die Halfling, and with your death I shall be victorious.” A voice said from the darkness, Thorin knew somehow that the source of the voice was whoever Bilbo was looking at. What was the hobbit doing in such a place like this, he should have been home in Bag End reading his books and pouring over maps, gentle folk shouldn’t be fighting. Why wasn't he safe?

       “We will never give up.” Bilbo proclaimed, “My death shall only make the other fight harder. The people of Erebor deserve better then you.” Erebor. Why was Bilbo in Erebor? Thorin wanted to scream, to shout, something wasn’t right here. It didn’t make sense. Why was Bilbo back in Erebor? Suddenly a sword came out of nowhere and swung towards his beloved hobbit.

       “No!” Thorin shouted as he sat up, he was in Bag End, he was in bed. Looking over he could see Bilbo looking at him with concern in his eyes, safe, he was safe. There were no swords, no bruises, no burns, and best of all he was where he should be in Bag End surrounded by books and flowers and all the other gentle things that he loved and not in Erebor, in danger. Outside he could see the dark blue tinged sky, the beginning of a sunrise, the beginning of a new day.

       “Thorin,” Bilbo’s soothing voice said taking his hand in between his own. Thorin hadn’t realized he’d been shaking till then, the dream had scared him like no other nightmare had. He didn’t want to imagine the hobbit in danger; he loved Bilbo too much for him to be in harm’s way like that. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this particular nightmare, for the past week he’d dreamt Bilbo in Erebor, in danger. And every night he woke up screaming, waking Bilbo in the process. He knew that Bilbo was concerned, he hadn’t actually conveyed the nature of the dream to the hobbit, though he was sure they were a warning from somebody. Something was coming.

       “I’m okay, Bilbo.” Thorin said, smiling softly as the hobbit began to soothingly trace his palm lines, sometimes he would pretend to read Thorin’s fortune to make him laugh. He let the hobbit continue his ministrations as he gazed out the window. He didn’t like to feel helpless, for the past seventy years he’d done everything in his power to help those who could not help themselves, to help them the way he hadn’t been able to help the people of Erebor. To atone for the actions that were not his own. But what good would those actions be if he couldn’t help the one he loved the most. His heart. His most precious one. Those dreams made him feel helpless, made him feel- A warm embrace chased the dark thoughts away as he relaxed into Bilbo’s chest.

       “I am here, Thorin. I’m not going anywhere.” Bilbo whispered.

       “Promise?” Thorin asked quietly, his many walls coming down for the hobbit revealing just how vulnerable he felt. He only trusted Bilbo this much.

       “Yes.”

       With that simple word Thorin feels the weight that has been pressing down on him since woke up disappear, and suddenly his fear seems silly. Where was Bilbo going to go to get himself in danger anyway? Bilbo had no desire to leave the Shire like his mother had; he was quite comfortable just staying at Bag End the rest of his life. He was the whole reason Thorin had stayed in the Shire this long, and the reason why Thorin would probably never leave the Shire again. He was content to stay here, in this peaceful land of hobbits, in his smithy fixing wheelbarrow axles for the Gaffer and making silver spoons for the Tooks. He had earned this peace and quiet from all those years of bloodshed, fighting the invading orcs in Rohan and Gondor. His desire to return to Erebor hadn’t diminished but he had finally accepted that he would never return to the place of his birth, he was happy, he was loved, he had found acceptance among the hobbits, what more could he want? And yet sometimes late at night, sitting in the parlor watching the fire die he could see the fires of the forge of Erebor, the jewels that had glimmered in them and the call of the mountain was strong. And then he would hear Bilbo’s light snore coming from the upholstered seat next to him and remember that everything he could ever need was there right beside him.

       “Are you going to the forge today?” Bilbo asked as he pushed the covers away from his body, his chest was bare and hairless, like most hobbits and dwarves. Looking at his half naked lover, Thorin would like nothing more than to stay in bed today, like Bilbo is suggesting, and enjoy his company, but the Brandybucks have just commissioned a new silverware set for Brandy Hall and if he can finish it today and have it sent by courier to them this afternoon it’ll make everyone happier.

       “Yes, I have one more commission to be filled and then I’ll take the week off, I promise.” Thorin said as he leaned over to kiss Bilbo. He’d been promising the hobbit for the past month that if he finished everything he’d take a week off and spend it just with him.

       “Mmm,” Bilbo hummed as Thorin kissed him, “Sounds nice, we could go visit my mother.” Belladonna had moved back to Tooksbourgh two years ago claiming she didn’t want to burden Bilbo or Thorin any longer. Thorin thought she really just didn’t want to be around the women of Hobbition any longer. They could be really nasty folk, especially those Bracegirdles, one had just married a Baggins not long ago. Bilbo said she was missing his father and that Bag End still reminded her of him too much.

       “Or stay here and have some quality time.” Thorin suggested while lightly running his fingers up Bilbo’s chest.

       “My, my Mister Thorin, what lewd ideas you have.” Bilbo teased leaning into the dwarf’s touch and reaching up to peck Thorin’s lips. Then he scampered out of the bed and to the bathroom leaving Thorin growling in the bed.

~Bag End~

       Bilbo was making breakfast when he heard the shower turn off a few minutes later Thorin meandered into the kitchen where Bilbo was cooking sausage, some bacon, and some eggs, and pancakes. He liked to make a big first breakfast as Thorin rarely ate second breakfast with him, too busy at the forge and what not. Usually he just had toast with some butter or jam. He was worried about Thoirn, he’d woken up with nightmares every day for the past week waking Bilbo up with him with his moaning and screaming. The first couple of nights Bilbo had tried to wake Thorin up, usually the dwarf was a very light sleeper and the slightest noise would wake him up, but nothing Bilbo said or did would wake him till the screaming started. Thorin would never tell him what horrified him so badly, and the secrecy concerned him a little bit. He hoped that taking a week off from the forge and distressing and relaxing would do him some good.

       Bilbo turned as Thorin walked into the kitchen to say a greeting about the morning, but all thoughts flew out of his head as he saw Thorin’s wet, shower tussled hair and bare chest with water droplets still running down them from the shower. The bastard was getting back at him for being a tease this morning. “Is my cream shirt still in the laundry?”

       “Yes- yes I believe so.” Bilbo squeaked as Thorin winked at him, he felt his cheeks flush as Thorin then paraded around the kitchen half naked in only a pair of brown breeches that the tailor had specifically tailored for him. All of Thorin’s clothes had to be specially tailored as he was much bigger than normal hobbits, not only in height but in broadness as well.

       “Thank you, Bilbo.” Thorin said as he left the kitchen leaving Bilbo extremely flustered and burning the bacon.

       Thorin left right after breakfast, saying something about wanting an early start to the day so that he could get it done with and be out of the forge by tea time, leaving Bilbo to his own devices for most of the day. Usually Bilbo cooked or read or went to the market to restock his pantries, Bilbo liked to have a full pantry, most hobbits did especially those who had survived the Fell Winter, none of them liked to be reminded of what would happen when their pantries ran low. A lot of the times in the spring he would work in the gardens beside Hamish his gardener, planting flowers and other crops in the small gardens brought simple pleasures to Bilbo. He and Hamish would often make small talk of many topics: Bell, Hamish’s wife, the Took’s latest scandal, some of the news the traders brought when the rolled in, and the gardens of Erebor that Thorin sometimes talked about, they had once belonged to the princess of Erebor before she died from disease that plagues the dwarves from time to time. Thorin would speak of exotic types of ivy that she had grown and flowers that neither hobbit had ever heard of that only grew in the northern region of the world. Hamish had once confided in Bilbo that he hoped to one day have the traders bring in some of these flowers so they could plant them in the garden to make Mister Thorin feel more at home in the Shire and he couldn’t help but agree, Thorin rarely talked of Erebor but when he did everyone knew he missed the land of his birth.

       Today though Bilbo did none of those things, the garden was done, he and Hamish had finished it last week, the pantries were stocked he’d gone to the market the day before, and it was too nice of a May day to sit inside and read, instead he sat on the bench in front of Bag End, where he and Thorin liked to sit at night and just talk, and smoked his pipe. It was the best the Shire had, Longbottom leaf, and Bilbo could pretty much smoke a whole barrel by himself within a month. Most hobbits indulged themselves in the smoking of weed and Thorin enjoyed it occasionally. He closed his eyes letting his senses be overwhelmed by the smell of the pipeweed and the sounds of Hobbiton, home, his home, the only place he ever wanted to be.

       It was only when the pipeweed smoke was blown into his face making his eyes water slightly did he open them, standing in front of him was a very large gray cloak, and when he followed it upwards a long white beard was revealed to him. “Good morning, Gandalf.” He said to the man hiding behind the wide brim, pointy, gray hat. What on earth was the wizard doing here today? Was there a party in the Shire and he was bringing his fireworks? Why hadn’t he been invited, being the head of Bag End usually made Bilbo invited to all the parties of any hobbit who was anybody?

       “What do you mean?” Gandalf asked giving him one of his more serious looks and Bilbo began to wonder if parties and fireworks weren’t Gandalf’s only means of enjoying himself. His mother had often mentioned Gandalf leading her away on some of her adventures. Could that be the reason Gandalf had so suddenly turned up on his doorstep? “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it to be or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that is it a morning to be good on?” Bilbo blinked trying to make sense of the wizard’s riddle, one of the first mistakes he made this morning.

       “All of them at once I suppose.” Bilbo said finally when he couldn’t make heads or tails of the wizard’s words. Did they all speak like this? Thorin had mentioned there had been a wizard who had lived near Rohan, but that the wizard never came to help the people and he hadn’t actually seen him, just heard rumors. “Can I help you?”

       “Yes, yes I believe you can, Mister Baggins, Thorin is still living with you is he not?” Gandalf asked.

       “Yes, he’s at the forge right now. Do you need him?” Bilbo asked, his eyes drifted down the hill to where the forge was blowing up a whole bunch of smoke, whatever the dwarf was doing in there he was working awfully hard.

       “No, not at this particular moment. We shall be back for tea.” And with that Gandalf swept his cloak about him and set off down the lane back the way he came.

       “Wait, Gandalf, we- whose we?” Bilbo shouted, but the wizard was gone and once again Bilbo was left to his own thoughts and confusions. “Bothersome wizards,” Bilbo muttered standing up as he no longer felt like smoking his pipe anymore. It was almost time for elevensies and he knew as well as any hobbit that a full stomach would make the world better.

       By the time tea time rolled around Bilbo had almost forgotten about Gandalf’s visit, he was more excited about spending the next week with Thorin and Thorin alone. They could laze the whole day in bed just enjoying each other’s company, and there would be no work and no other hobbits to be scandalized and it would just be a world of the two- a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, who could it be? Thorin wouldn’t knock and any respectable hobbit would be having tea at the moment. With a sigh Bilbo tore himself away from his seed cakes he was planning to share with Thorin when he got home. “Hello?” He said opening up the round door, standing at the door was a dwarf but not Bilbo’s dwarf. This dwarf was a much bigger dwarf, broader and balder, with tattoos all over his head and arms, Bilbo’s eyes went wide as he tried to take in the dwarf all at once, he had two large axes strapped to his back but the hobbit was pretty sure that he could kill him without using them if he wanted to.

       “Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed though it looked as if it pained him to do so.

       “Uh- Bilbo Baggins at your, sir.” Bilbo replied bowing as well. This was most unusual, bowing to guests and dwarves; oh what would the neighbors say?

       “Well where is he, laddie?” The dwarf asked pushing himself slightly past Bilbo and entering the drawing room looking under tables and chairs as if someone could be hiding there.

       “Where’s who?” Bilbo asked slightly taken back.

       “Thorin.” Oh. Why were the dwarves looking for Thorin? Was it something to do with his banishment, Thorin wasn’t supposed to have contact with the dwarves; it could mean certain death for him. Did they want to kill him?

       “What- what do you want with him?” Bilbo asked, Thorin had an axe nearby in the front closet, if the dwarf kept looking for him under chairs and tables maybe he wouldn’t notice Bilbo slipping away to get it.

       Another knock at the door, Bilbo prayed it wasn’t another dwarf looking for Thorin. He had to warn Thorin what was going on in Bag End. “That’ll be the door.” The dwarf growled not answering Bilbo’s question.

       This time there was more than one dwarf in fact there was a whole slew of dwarves standing outside his door. “Balin, at your service.” Said the white haired dwarf in front of them all. “This is Fíli, Kíli, Gloin, Oin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Loni.” He pointed at all the dwarves as he said their names and each one gave a bow to Bilbo, there were too many for Bilbo to bow to each of them so he just did one great bow at the end.

       “He’s not here, Balin.” The bald dwarf said pushing Bilbo to the side to be in the doorway. “The wizard said he lived here.”

       “Gandalf? Gandalf sent you?” Bilbo demanded. Why was the wizard sending dwarves to look for Thorin.

       “He was wrong. The wizard lead us astray!” the red bearded dwarf shouted angrily and Bilbo wished they wouldn’t be so loud standing in his doorway, he was going to be the talk of the neighbors for weeks now.

       “Gandalf wouldn’t just lead us astray, he wants to help Erebor.” A young, long haired, beardless brunet said, there was something about his features that Bilbo recognized but he couldn’t figure out what yet. There was no way he could have met this particular dwarf before, the only dwarf he’d ever met was Thorin. The blond beside him nodded.

       “Why don’t we ask Mister Baggins where he is.” The white haired dwarf suggested kindly and then looked to him as did all the other dwarves.

       “I won’t tell you where he is unless you tell me why you’re here.” Bilbo said trying to stand his ground and not pass out from suddenly be put on the spot.

       “Where who is?” Thorin asked from behind the party of dwarves. “Bilbo, is there something you failed to mention to me?” The dwarves gasped and some moved out of the way so Thorin could walk through them.

       “I- they- they just showed up.” Bilbo said his words rushing together as he spoke wildly “And- and Gandalf was here earlier. I- I don’t know why they’re here.” Thorin moved into Bag End and put a hand on his shoulder.

       “It’s okay Bilbo, they’re friends. They don’t want to hurt me.” Thorin soothed before kissing his forehead as if the others weren’t watching.

~Bag End~

       Fíli wasn’t quite sure to make of his uncle yet, he was tall for a dwarf, almost as tall as Dwalin, with long brown hair like Kíli’s and his mother’s, but he lacked a beard though Fíli supposed that came with the fact that Thorin was banished and banished dwarves were forbidden under pain of death to have a beard or contact with any other dwarves. No wonder the small creature had been extremely protective. Nothing he had seen yet though made him believe that this was the same dwarf his mother told so many stories about and Dwalin boasted of his prowess in battle, he seemed too soft as if he’d been living with these gentle creatures for too long. Yet there was a fire in his blue eyes that told Fíli not to underestimate him yet.

       “What is the meaning of this visit, Balin.” Thorin said quietly after he’d ushered them all into the house under the hill and all the dwarves were reintroduced to him, as he had just missed Balin’s introductions. Houses in hills was an interesting way to build homes, it wasn’t quite like a mountain and yet it smelt earthy like the mountain, these hobbits were certainly queer folk, Fíli decided. The hobbit was pulling food out of a room off to the side of kitchen muttering to himself to quietly for Fíli to really hear.

       “It is time for you to return to the mountain.” Fíli said answering for the elderly dwarf. “King Frerin is worse than his predecessors and as the true heir to the throne the people will follow your lead.” Balin nodded and Thorin just sighed rubbing his hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. If he went there was no guarantee that everyone would accept his rule, Frerin certainly wouldn’t, and a war could tear Erebor apart at the seams.

       “I have seen evil, Balin, pure evil, I found it staring me down on the plains in Rohan and Gondor, I have seen the black mountains that loom in the distance in Gondor, always there like a shadow of the past, the world is not as it was when I was a child. Evil creeps back in, slowly until before we know it, it consumes us. There are many horrors I have seen in my seventy years of wandering, many things that cannot be unseen. I’ve had my fill of war and destruction. Fíli is young, yes, but with his brother at his side he will make a good king.” Thorin looked at Fíli with a gentle smile. “The Shire is the one place I have found where evil has not touched, and I would like to continue to keep it that way.”

       “You’re not going to help Erebor?” Kíli demanded, “You’re going to abandon your people for these halflings?” Fíli could see his whole body shake with rage as he spoke to their uncle. He wouldn’t mind giving their uncle a good throttling, why wouldn’t he come? Erebor needed him and he was being a senile old man who would abandon his people to a mad man. Erebor was his home not the Shire, they were family not these half people who lived in strange homes.

       “Boy!” Their uncle roared, “Whatever stories your mother told of me, whatever heroics she said I accomplished, she was wrong. I am not a hero, and my coming back to the mountain won’t help the dwarves.” He couldn’t- he couldn’t think about going back, he had spent so long wanting to, wishing he could. But he’d found a home here, a new home, and he knew he didn’t want to give this one up.

       “You should go with them.” A quiet voice said from the doorway between the dining room at the kitchen, Fíli had forgotten that the hobbit had gone in there to bring them something to eat. He held a tray full of meat and baked items that would have rivaled Frerin’s stores, these Shirefolk didn’t realize how good their lives were. “Erebor is your home, Thorin, you miss it. I know you do, I can tell from the way you speak of it. I know if someone forced me out of the Shire and I wandered around for years and then I was told I could come back, I would.” Thorin’s face softened at Bilbo’s words and he sighed again, and Fíli could see suddenly how their relationship worked, Thorin had a raging storm of emotions and hurts and anger, and Bilbo was the calming balm to it all, he wondered if the hobbit is all that keeps his uncle sane. Light red hair flashed across his eyes, the sounds of tinkling beads as they touched ringed in his ears and even as he tried to push those images away Ori still remained.

       “Bilbo, I- will you be okay by yourself?” Thorin asked, Bilbo shook his head at the dwarf and set the tray of food down.

       “I will go with you.” Bilbo said Fíli frowned; he certainly didn’t want a soft hobbit following them for the next six months in the wild not able to fend for himself. The creature belonged here with his kin and comforts. The other’s started to murmur among themselves their disapproval as well.

       But Thorin was the most vocal. “Absolutely not Bilbo, you are not leaving the Shire. I would not put you in harm’s way like that, it would be reckless and stupid and you would be killed in the first battle.” He said jumping out of his chair in anger. There was a look in the hobbit’s eye the first hint Fíli that there was more to this soft creature than what met the eye.

       “I think he should come with us.” A voice piped up from the back, everyone turned to look at Loni, who was usually one of the more quieter members of the group.  “I think if someone wants to puts their life on the line for those he loves and does not want to be parted from them then let him come. We can train him, not all of us were warriors when we started this journey.” Bofur nodded in agreement and Thorin just sighed and turned back to Bilbo.

       “I cannot guarantee your safety, Bilbo, you must understand that this will be a dangerous road, and there are many orcs and other dangers along the road to Erebor.” Thorin said, Bilbo nodded and went to stand beside him.

       “Prince Thorin” Gloin started but was cut off by an indigenous squawk.

       “Prince?” the squawk was from Bilbo who looked absolutely mortified at Thorin. “A prince?” His uncle hadn’t informed the hobbit of his status? Why? Especially if they were courting? Fíli wanted to shake his head, his uncle had done many strange things that he wasn’t sure he could see the logic in. But he knew that Thorin was still the right person to rule in Frerin’s stead, he had to be, he was noble and cared greatly for others, something Erebor had long been missing.

       “Bilbo,” Thorin said grabbing the hobbit’s hands as if to steady him, but it was a tad too late as the hobbit had suddenly collapsed to the floor. Thorin groaned and rubbed his forehead and glared at Gloin who shrank back at Thorin’s dark look. Fíli almost laughed, Kíli and his mother could match that look almost entirely, the cool indifference in the face with raging fire in the eyes and tightness of the lips, he on the other hand had never mastered what he had dubbed the Durin Glare too much of his father, Víli, in him. “Let me take him to our room, he’ll be awake soon enough.” Thorin easily picked up the hobbit and carried him gently out of the dining room.

       “The prince has fallen for a delicate creature.” Dwalin said with a twinge of disapprovement in his voice watching Thorin’s back, Fíli shrugged, he was sure he’d seen more of a fire in the hobbit’s eyes and one could only wait to see what would be in store for his uncle once the hobbit woke up again.

       “I like him.” Kíli said popping a sausage into his mouth. “He’s very delicate but brave, like Ori.” Or at least that’s what Fíli thought he said because his words were slightly inhibited by the food in his mouth. A long sigh from Balin as he watched the youngest prince ignore years of etiquette classes that had been taught to them both by the elderly dwarf.

       “Do ya think he’s been here in the Shire the whole time?” Bombur asked eyeing Bilbo’s tray of food before picking up one of the baked items off of it and popping it into his mouth.  His face lit up with delight as he reached for another one, maybe in another life Bombur could have been a fat dwarf who had always eaten till his heart was content but in a world where Frerin starved Erebor the gentle red headed man had always let the starving neighborhood children eat first no matter how hungry he went. Fíli admired him for his kindness, for his and Bofur’s kindness they showed the people of Erebor.

       “Liven’ a quiet peaceful life.” Gloin snorted, Gloin was Balin and Dwalin’s cousin though he and his brother Oin hadn’t grown up as close to the princes of Erebor as their cousin’s had and had always remained aloof till the call to find Thorin. His son Gimli on the other hand was a fast friend of Kíli and Fíli’s though Gloin had not wanted his son who was two years younger than Kíli to accompany them on the adventure.

       “No, I have not, Master Gloin, though I had been content to live out the rest of my days here with Bilbo till you showed up.” Thorin said coming in through the kitchen instead of the hall which he had exited out of earlier. “I wandered for quite some time in the wild lands and in the south till my wanderings took me here.” He did not seem angry at Gloin’s words only resigned by them as if he had expected people to think that way. “How are my sister and your father, Fíli?” He asked sitting back down in the chair he had previously been sitting in.

       “Mother is well; she leads the rebellion against uncle though. Father is- Father has been-” Fíli searched for the words to tell Thorin of a death that had taken place nearly seventy years ago, but none came to him, only the stories of his mother that had been about how close friends they were, like brothers till Thorin’s banishment.

       “Víli is dead.” Dwalin said in Fíli place, “And has been for sixty-five years. Frerin had him killed after suspecting he was leading the rebellion at the time. Made it look like an accident with the orcs. Kíli had hardly left his mother’s womb when that happened.” Thorin’s face drained of color, and Fíli wondered if he was going to pass out as well. Balin put a comforting hand on Thorin’s shoulder that the dwarf prince did not shrug away.

       “Víli was an honorable dwarf, one of the most honorable I have ever known. I was so proud when Dís married him and we became brothers.” Thorin said his voice cracking slightly and his gaze seemed far away. His hand was clenched in a tight fist, his knuckles turning white but he seemed not to notice this at all.

       “Uncle,” Kíli said hesitantly, “Frerin is still in league with the orcs.” Hushed murmurs went around the group and Fíli frowned, how did his brother know this? Had Kíli been keeping secrets from him? His thoughts drifted back to when he’d told Ori she couldn’t come, when he found out he’d be leading the expedition, Kíli had been acting strange wanting to talk to their mother but he’d been distracted by the distraught Ori at the time and hadn’t thought much of it, till now. He’d never found out what upset her so. “I- I overheard a conversation between Frerin and an orc, among the many things I heard, I heard Frerin mention that he’d hired them to go after you. I confirmed this with Mother; she says that he hired a white orc named Azog to hunt you down about twenty years ago.” Blue eyes widened and Thorin jumped up teeth gnashing. Kíli took a step back unsure of what to make of the wild look in Thorin’s eyes. Had they met before, Fíli wondered.

       “I- I need to think.” Thorin said, “You can stay here in the dining room or go into the parlor, I need to think.”

~Bag End~

       Frerin had hired Beren’s killer, even his brother hadn’t known the relationship between him and those that had been killed Frerin wanted him dead. Why? He hadn’t been anywhere near Erebor in seventy years, he hadn’t done anything to warrant such actions against him, for most of those seventy years he’d been a mere blacksmith traveling around the world of men trying to make his way through it. He had to leave even if he didn’t want to go back with the company, if Azog found him here in the Shire he would kill the peace the hobbits had, they had no weapons, not really, small bows made for hunting rabbits in the woods would not hold against the onslaught of the orcs. And Bilbo was going to go with them on this mad quest that would more likely end with their deaths and the ruin of Erebor, it almost felt like murder. He didn’t want Bilbo coming, he would prefer if the hobbit stayed here in the Shire but he couldn’t control his love and Thorin guessed it would be better if Bilbo came with them if they should die, he wanted to die with Bilbo knowing they’d always be together.

       “Uncle?” Kíli came to sit beside him on the bench where Thorin had escaped to so he could think. The nephew he’d never known but could not deny a relation to, he looked just like Dís and Fíli looked so much like his father. Finding out about Víli’s death had caused a pain in Thorin’s heart he hadn’t been aware he could feel again. It was like losing Beren all over again. “Fíli doesn’t know this, but Frerin wanted Azog to capture Fíli as well and torture him till he was no longer himself. Frerin feels that Fíli is too weak to rule right now because he is too compassionate towards the people of Erebor. Because he walks among the commoners and sees them as equals.”

       “How many know this?” Thorin asked looking over at the young dwarf.

       “Mother, Balin, Dwalin, myself and Ori.”

       “Ori?” Thorin had heard Kíli mention the name before but he was not familiar with it. Not someone on the quest it would seem since he hadn’t heard the name during the introductions. He had been glad to see that Bofur and Bombur were still okay, he had never know what their fates were, seeing that they were still alive warmed him up a bit. At least his banishment hadn’t been for nothing; at least they were still alive.

       “She’s a darrowdam that Fíli’s been courting for the past three years. She’s Balin’s apprentice and a good friend. Fíli wanted her to stay safe so he left her behind in Erebor.” Kíli glanced down at his feet as he spoke, he sounded as if he wasn’t sure Fíli would want him to know all this, but Thorin was glad that Kíli trusted him with the information. They were hardly more than strangers right now, but he hoped they could become a family once again.

       “She’s a commoner isn’t she?” Thorin asked Kíli nodded.

       “Frein wants him to marry a Firebeard princess; Ori was distraught when she heard this. Fíli’s proposed to her, but he hasn’t found a way to tell Mother yet or her brothers. I’m the only one who knows and you know, I guess.” Thorin nodded and smiled at him. “You’re not quite as I expected you to be.” Kíli admitted after a few minutes of sitting silently, Thorin had been lost in thoughts about his two nephews growing up fatherless like he had. He wished he could have been there for them, been fathers to them, in another life maybe he would have been.

       “Oh?” Thorin said chuckling slightly, “How did you expect me to be?”

       “Not so sad. You look and walk sometimes as if you see death everywhere; at least you have been since my news about Frerin’s alliance with Azog.” Thorin nodded and sighed.

       “I have seen many things Kíli, in my wanderings, met many people. I met a boy while I was working in Gondor, an orphaned boy; I took him on as my apprentice. He was a smart lad, took to smithing very quickly and without a lot of instruction and I loved him like he was my son. Before then I had traveled alone and not stayed in places for too long. He traveled with me before we settled down in a small village in Rohan. He fell in love with a young woman, but she was slain in an orc attack and Beren was never the same again. He wanted vengeance on the whole race, thought that if he wiped them out no one would ever have to feel the pain he felt again. I think secretly he hoped that he would die in crusade so he could join her. One day an army of orcs came upon those of us who were on this crusade together, they were led by a pale orc named Azog, and he came after me. His army slew my companions and Beren took a blade meant for me. I cut off the orc’s had in vengeance but Azog fled before I could do more damage. Beren died in my arms.” Silence fell over the pair once again as they gazed over the landscape of Hobbiton  and its rolling hills and little rivers. Calm, peaceful, serene, and Thorin would leave it all behind to reclaim his homeland, and Bilbo would leave it to follow him.

       The creaking of Bag End’s green wooden door made Thorin turn his head to see who would be joining them on the bench, it was Bilbo. He didn’t look as angry as Thorin thought he would be, should be. He had kept the truth behind his heritage a secret, but he hadn’t thought it mattered, he didn’t want people to like him because he’d been born a prince. He’d seen so much of the world because people didn’t know, he’d seen their ups and downs, their good and bad, people had made their own opinions of him and not of just his family and assumed he was like them. Bilbo loved him because he was Thorin, just Thorin, not Prince Thorin. Kíli stood up, stretching his arms as he did so. “I’ll leave the two of you alone. Fee is probably wondering where I am.” Thorin nodded turning his head back to look down the hill to the forge where he’d worked day in and day out for the past nineteen years. He’d miss it, the simplicity of it, the respect he’d earned for his skills, the just being Thorin part of it. Everything would change once they reached Erebor, he would have to let go of just Thorin and don Prince Thorin once again, and now he wasn’t so sure he knew who Prince Thorin was anymore.

       “So when I guessed you were a lord I missed the mark slightly.” Bilbo said when he reached the bench. Thorin nodded, he took in the sight of Bilbo in front of Bag End, he might not ever see it again. They might not ever come back. Belladonna would be upset they left without telling her but he was sure Bilbo would leave a note for his mother in Hamfast’s care.

       “Slightly.” Thorin agreed.

       “Why didn’t you tell me?” Bilbo asked sliding into Kíli’s vacated spot beside Thorin. He overturned Thoirn’s hand and began to trace the palm lines just as he had that morning after his nightmare. “I just- I suddenly feel there’s so much about you that I don’t know.”

       “I didn’t tell you that I was a prince because I had left that part of me behind. Because I didn’t want you to fall in love with a prince, I wanted you to fall in love with Thorin the wandering dwarf blacksmith, banished from his homeland for crimes against the king.” Thorin said leaning into Bilbo’s touch. His words sounded bitterer than he wanted them to be.

       “Your father banished you?” Thorin shook his head.

       “Grandfather, my father was killed on an orc raid when I was young. I grew up knowing I would one day be king of Erebor. It was a lot of responsibility for someone so young to be burdened with. And I watched my grandfather deteriorate into a gold lusting being that had no love for his subjects that fell deaf on their pleas and blind to their woes. I couldn’t take it, I tried to help them as best I could, and Thrór cast me out for it.” Bilbo’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb caressing it. A soothing balm for his pain. “I’m glad though. I’ve become a better person for it, and I never would have met you.” Bilbo chuckled slightly.

 “That’s true, and I’m glad we met, Thorin prince of Erebor.” It warmed Thorin’s heart to hear Bilbo’s words. “And I think you’ll make a spectacular king.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the chapter where the author comes out and writes a silly note): Well I was hoping to be able to publish this at the beginning of this week but I had difficulties with some of the emotional differences of the character. Trying to figure out how Thorin would react to Bilbo wanting to come on their adventure was extremely difficult. I took a few cues from the book and movie to help me out.  
> Please review, I love reading your input good or bad.  
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Re-edits 1/27/15: Spelling changes, and clarification.


	7. Chapter Seven

Bilbo sighed a sigh of relief as they stopped for the night, his thighs ached from riding the pony, he’d named her affectionately Myrtle after a childhood friend of his, every day for the past month. It took a month to reach the Misty Mountains from Bree which was three days out from the Shire, they would begin the long ascend into the mountains in four days by Balin’s reckoning, Gandalf said three days and a half. The closer they drew to the Misty Mountains and what lay beyond the more Bilbo noticed a change in the company, back straightened, smiles grew wider, talk of a new era beginning were whispered, and Thorin started to look more and more like a king. The changes frightened Bilbo a little bit, he loved Thorin, and he wanted him to reclaim his throne, but he wasn’t sure he would be the right person to stand beside Thorin and the throne of Erebor. He had no idea how to run a kingdom; how to make people like him, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to stay in Erebor. He loved the Shire, it was his home, it was a place of peace and plenty and he knew what to expect. It was safe, Erebor was not safe. What if the dwarves didn’t like the idea of Bilbo standing by their king, what if they thought like Dwalin did that he was too soft? But at the very least he would see this quest through, there was no guarantee that Thorin would even make it to be king, there were still many dangers to face including over throwing his brother Frerin.

       “Bilbo, you okay?” Loni asked, Bilbo turned towards the red haired dwarf. He liked him for the most part, he was pretty hobbitish for a dwarf, he liked to read and write and kept a small journal tucked away that he wrote in when he thought no one else could see him. And he glanced over at Thorin’s eldest nephew quite often as well. But more than that Bilbo could tell that they were both outsiders to the group, Loni didn’t quite fit in with the others, or tried to fit in at least, he seemed content to be a few feet away from the fire circle with his own thoughts just like Bilbo did.

       “Yeah, are you drawing something?” Loni was moving a pencil back and forth along a piece of paper, but not like the way someone did when they were writing. He nodded sheepishly and Bilbo peered around his shoulder to see what he was drawing, Fíli. “He is rather handsome isn’t he?”

       “He-I- it’s complicated.” Loni said with a sigh looking down at the drawing wistfully, there was a sad longing in his eyes as he glanced over to where Fíli and Kíli were wrestling in the dirt. Bilbo hummed in agreement and glanced over at Thorin who was talking quietly to Balin and Dwalin, and absent mindedly played with the beads Thorin had made for him over the years that were braided in his hair. How far away they were despite how close they seemed. “Those are beautiful.” Loni said, his hands absentminded drifted towards his collar before he jerked it away again.

       “Thorin always said he could make better ones if he lived among the dwarves again, ones with gemstones and finer detail. But I’ve never wanted that, I love these not because they’re beautiful but because he made them with whatever he had in the forge, he crafted them out of love and I don’t want anything more than that.” Loni nodded but anything more he might have said to Bilbo was cut off by Bofur’s call of dinner and the young dwarf scampered over to his side. They were related somehow, Bilbo hadn’t caught quite yet how, but he was starting to understand relationship dynamics between the dwarves. No one had bothered to explain to him who everyone was but it would seem Balin and Dwalin were brothers as were Gloin and Oin, and Bofur and Bombur, and Dori and Nori, and Fíli and Kíli, Bilbo was starting to believe that dwarves didn’t believe in creativity in names. Balin and Dwalin and Gloin and Oin were cousins and Bifur was Bofur and Bombur’s cousin and somehow Balin, Dwalin, Gloin and Oin were related to Thorin as well as Dori and Nori but more distantly than the other four as they were considered commoners while the others were nobility. But to add to the familial mess, Dwalin and Nori were in some sort of relationship which didn’t sound healthy as Dwalin was a guard and Nori was a thief. Dwarves were a confusing lot, and poor Loni didn’t fit into the whole mess at all, no wonder he felt so alone with Bilbo.

       “Are you not coming to eat?” Thorin’s quiet voice asked from behind him, Bilbo stiffened like a rabbit in the sight of an eagle before relaxing. He hadn’t heard Thorin coming up behind him, usually it was the other way around, hobbits were well known for being light on their feet, but he had been deep in thought and not pay as much attention as he should to their surroundings.

       “I am, I was just thinking.” Bilbo said as Thorin sat down behind him running his fingers through Bilbo’s curly hair. “I’ve missed this.” He whispered quietly hoping Thorin actually hadn’t heard him. He didn’t want the dwarf to feel as if Bilbo thought he’d abandoned him, he understood Thorin had responsibilities, responsibilities he hadn’t had before working in the forge. He just wished that there was sometimes more time for them and not for everyone else. He would have to get used to this, a voice in the back of his mind told him, if Thorin became king he’d have even less time. The stiffening of Thorin’s fingers as they deftly weaved Bilbo’s hair together told the hobbit that Thorin hadn’t missed his quiet words.

       “I’ve missed this too.” Thorin said just as quietly. “But I am glad you’ve made a friend. Loni is a shy one, but I do not doubt his heart.” Bilbo nodded watching as the other dwarves ate around the small fire; Bofur would make sure Bombur did not eat their share. Gandalf had disappeared for the night, as he did most nights, off doing wizarding things Bilbo supposed, he’d never giving Gandalf’s disappearance much thought. “Bofur brought him with them because the poor lad would have had a death mark on him for some odd reason or another by my brother.” A death mark? On Loni, he was so quiet and kind and courteous, whatever could he have done to warrant such a thing?

       “He’s in love with Fíli.”

       “Then I am afraid his tale will be a sad one.” Thorin said somberly, “Fíli loves another, her name is Ori, she is Nori and Dori’s little sister and Fíli stays away from him because Loni reminds him of her.” Bilbo frowned, he didn’t claim to be an expert in love, but he’d done his fair share of matchmaking as a young hobbit lad among the other lads and lasses, he knew the difference between longing from a far without a hope and longing for one you had a history with, Loni and Fíli had a history. He kept the information to himself and did not dispute Thorin, he didn’t have all the details and it was better not to create a problem if none needed to be created.

       “Loni will love someone else with time.”

       “Perhaps.” Thorin said, “But dwarves do not give away their hearts easily. Many of the other races believe we love just once, it is not entirely true, but we do not fall in and out of love as easily as other races. We are like stones, we carve the names we love into us and it is hard to erase the names no matter what we try.” Bilbo leaned into Thorin’s chest trying not to think of the lonely fate that Loni would probably live, maybe though they could offer him a position within the court of Erebor that would distract him from love lost. He was starting not to like this Ori girl, which was sad to say because he’d never met her and her brothers were nice enough, Nori was always around Dwalin who intimidated him, and Dori was a bit unapproachable at times but Bilbo liked them for the most part, but knowing how sad Loni would be for the rest of his life made him unhappy.

       “Thorin I-” he stopped, what did he say next? Thorin I am unsure if I want to stay in Erebor? Thorin I am scared for what lies ahead? Thorin I don’t like the way things have changed between us? What would the dwarf do? Send him back to the Shire on his own? Thorin said they were lucky not to have run into anything yet on the road, and Bilbo doubted he’d be so lucky on his own. “I am glad we are doing this.” Thorin hummed in agreement, his hands still weaving throughout his hair.

       Bilbo didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep on Thorin till he woke up in the morning with Thorin’s arms around him pressing him into his chest. It was an intimacy Bilbo had missed for the past month with Thorin being so distant. None of the other dwarves were awake yet so it was a rare moment of peace for the hobbit. He wriggled out of Thorin’s grasp and sat on a nearby log to access the scene before him. Fíli and Kíli were laying an arm’s length away from each other; Kíli’s left arm was reaching out towards his brother, his fingertips just barely touching Fíli’s as if to make sure his brother was still there beside him, it was sweet. Gloin was sucking moths in and out of his mouth with every breath he took which was humorous to watch, Oin was nearby him. Dwalin and Nori slept side by side with Dori close by as if he was afraid one of them would try something. Balin slept closer to Thorin than to Dwalin. Bombur, Bifur and Loni were closer to the edge of camp, Bofur was missing though. Where was he?

       “Good mornin’, Mister Baggins.” Bofur said from behind him, Bilbo let out a startled squeal, and Thorin bolted upright. “Sorry, sorry, I just wasn’t expectin’ ya up.” Bofur apologized.

       “No, no, it’s okay.” Bilbo said as Thorin stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from his trousers that had gotten on them during the night.

       “You’re up early, Bilbo.” Thorin commented walking over to give Bilbo a kiss. His beard stubble tickling Bilbo’s forehead. “Good morning Bofur, a few more days and we’ll have the Misty Mountains behind us instead of in front of us.” Bofur nodded grinning, the Misty Mountains seemed to be the destination for the dwarves at the moment, it seemed to Bilbo that they believed that once they crossed the mountains it would all be a piece of cake to the Lonely Mountain. Was it because they knew the lands east of the mountain, or were they just trying to focus on one hurdle at a time?

       “I shall go wake the others up.” Bofur said leaving Thorin and Bilbo alone, it would be the last bit of solitude they would have all day before they stopped for camp and even then they probably would not get the solitude they wanted. Bilbo leaned upwards to kiss Thorin’s lips and Thorin leaned downward so they met in the middle.

       They rode hard that day, Gandalf had a bad feeling about the wooded area was in and wanted to be out of them by nightfall but Thorin protested that, when they ran about an abandoned farmer’s cabin, it would make a good shelter for the night. Many of the dwarves were in agreement about using it as it would mean a roof over their head for once instead of just the stars and the trees. Bilbo was in agreement with them as well, the woods seemed safe enough, he didn’t quite understand why the wizard was putting up so much of a fuss. The disagreement ended with Gandalf storming off, yelling at Bilbo when he inquired as to where he was going that he was going to spend time with the only thinking straight, himself. It put Bilbo off a little bit, but he shrugged it off.

       Thorin fumed and snapped at anyone who tried to speak to him so Bilbo found it safer to find other company that night, namely in the form of Loni who was writing in his journal up in the loft area of the abandoned farmer’s cabin. The aroma of the stew Bofur and Bombur were making wafted up to him making his stomach growl more than was probably polite. He wasn’t used to eating three meager meals a day, but he didn’t complain, he had wanted to go with them, he could handle something so trivial as hunger. But the smell was starting to get to him and the pains in his stomach weren’t pleasant. He knew dinner would be done soon enough he could hold off till then, but his body was saying otherwise. “Do you want to go for a walk?” Loni suggested shutting his journal and sliding it back into his pack. He was keeping a record of the company and everything that happened on their journey for the royal archives or so he had explained to Bilbo one of the first nights they had traveled together.

       “A walk would be wonderful ring now, yes.” Bilbo said stretching his arms upwards. He and Loni could go on a small walk through the woods and when they came back dinner would be ready and Bilbo’s stomach would stop growling so much.

       No one seemed to notice that they were wandering away from the cabin; everyone was too busy with camp and their own thoughts that they paid no mind to two of the more quieter members of the company. And so they strayed away from the path and into the deeper part of the woods talking. Well mostly it was Bilbo asking lots of questions about Erebor and dwarven culture and Loni answering them as much as he could. Dwarves were very secretive about their language and culture, and even though Bilbo was considered a dwarf pretty much by the members of the Company, Loni couldn’t yet tell him everything because he hadn’t gone through the official adoption ceremony yet. “Lady Dís kept a hold of Thorin’s beads after his banishment. I’m sure he will proudly weave them back into his beard when he returns.” Loni said as Bilbo stopped walking quite suddenly, was that- Bilbo stopped to sniff the air again, that was stew. He looked around at the trees, it couldn’t be their camp, they weren’t facing the right direction.  Were there other travelers about? It wasn’t a far stretched theory, but this far from the road would be strange for any honest travelers.

       “Do you smell that?” Bilbo asked. Loni nodded and turned in another direction as if something had caught his eye, Bilbo turned too to see what his dwarf friend was looking at. Was that- was that a fire he could see in the distance? Every fiber in his being was telling him not to go and investigate the fire, to go back and tell Thorin what they had found, but part of him wanted to find out, to have an adventure all on his own. It would probably amount to nothing but at least it would be fun.

       “This is a bad idea, Bilbo.” Loni said as the hobbit began to walk towards the fire. “We should tell Thorin.”

       “Tell Thorin what?” Fíli asked popping out from behind a tree, Loni gave a girlish scream and looked as if he was about to cry. The blond dwarf prince looked sheepishly at the red head dwarf he’d just scared. Kíli walked out from behind another tree laughing.

       “Loni, you sound just like Ori when we used to scare her.” Kíli said his face all red from laughing so much. “In fact from behind I thought you were her for some reason.” Loni looked uncomfortable and paled, Bilbo frowned, he didn’t think it was a good idea for the boys to mention Ori around Loni, too much painful memories probably.

       “I- uh- who is- who is Ori?” Loni asked wringing his fingers while he spoke. He glanced down at his feet and then back up to look into the distance, but never at the princes’ faces. Wait, Bilbo wanted to shout, how could Loni not know who Ori was? If he and Fíli had a past together then how could he not know who stole Fíli’s love for him? Or had Fíli not told Loni who he was being dumped for?

       “Dori and Nori’s little sister. I thought you two might have known each other because Nori and Bofur are close.” Kíli said with a frown. “You look a lot like her actually; you both have reddish brown hair and a short stature.” Fíli throughout this whole exchange had stayed silent, staring off into the distance behind Loni. “She’s really nice; you should meet her when we get back to Erebor.”

       “What did you want to tell Uncle Thorin?” Fíli asked, he looked at Bilbo as if expecting the hobbit to respond and not the dwarf he had recently scared. Fíli often avoided Loni just as much as Loni avoided Fíli, whatever had happened between them must have hurt.

       “There’s a camp fire over there. Bilbo wants to investigate.” Loni said directing the blond dwarf’s attention onto him. “I think Thorin should know where we’ve wandered off to.” Bilbo smiled slightly, admiring Loni’s bravery, he hated having the spotlight on him.

       “Okay, we’ll go tell uncle and you two go investigate the fire. If you’re not back within twenty minutes we’ll send a search party.” Kíli said with a grin, nudging Fíli’s elbow to try and make him smile, but Fíli continued to look a bit somber about something.

       Trolls, the campfire had been made by trolls. Bickering trolls who didn’t get along very well, trolls who were now deciding his and Loni’s fate as they lay near the campfire in rug sacks  that were tied up to their mid-chests. It was some comfort to Bilbo that Thorin would be coming, though he wasn’t sure he would be alive before help came, it would seem that the trolls had come to a decision, rather quicker than Bilbo had hoped, on how to cook them. One of them Bert came over quite suddenly and picked Bilbo up by his feet and began to shake him. The world went in and out of focus for him, he wanted to cry out but he couldn’t make his lips form the words he wanted to cry out. And then they were moving towards the camp fire and he could hear Loni screaming something, but his ears were ringing too much making it impossible for him to decipher the noise. Bert removed the rucksack from around Bilbo’s middle just before tossing him onto a frying pan. Bilbo lay against the cool metal, gasping, praying to Ilúvatar and Yavanna for him to survive the night. He should have never stepped outside his door, never begged to come on this foolish adventure with Thorin. And then there was a huge amount of heat surrounding him and the sounds of a fight going on but Bilbo knew no more.

~Trollshaws~

       “Fíli! Fíli help us!” she screamed as she watched the trolls carry Bilbo off, they couldn’t do this, they couldn’t eat Bilbo. She struggled against the rucksack that bound her hands to her sides and screamed for Bilbo till her voice was hoarse. Tears sprung from her eyes in frustration at their predicament. “Bilbo!” She screamed again as they tossed him onto the frying pan. Suddenly Kíli burst from the tree line sword in hand and the rest of the company right behind him. The trolls turned to face the newcomers ignoring the now cooking hobbit on the frying pan and their other captive. Thorin headed straight for the campfire to rescue Bilbo only to be knocked back by the swing of a troll’s arm. She had to do something, everyone else was involved in the melee, distracting the trolls, maybe she could reach Bilbo somehow.

       She tried to pull her arms upwards again to no avail, why was she always useless? No wonder Fíli hadn’t wanted her to accompany them in the beginning, she kept getting in everybody’s way, and now Bilbo was- Bilbo would be- she let out a loud cry as she tried to move her arms again. No one heard her, the sounds of the battle waging between dwarf and troll were too loud, even over that she had heard the sack rip; she pulled her arms out first and then the rest of her body before she attempted to make her way to the fire.

       A troll foot stopped her. One of the trolls had stepped back trying to avoid the oncoming of Kíli’s sword and nearly crushed her if she hadn’t already been so good at dodging. “Loni, you’re okay.” Kíli said with a quirky smile full of mischief. A smile that had once scared her when she was younger and terrified of what the Durin princes would entangle her into next.

       “Watch out.” She called, her voice now taking on a lower disposition then it had before when she had been screaming for Fíli, as the troll Kíli had been attacking took a swipe at him. She pushed the darker haired prince out of the way as the palm hit her full on and knocked her into a tree hitting her head while doing so.

        The first thing she noticed was that Kíli was standing over her when she came to, and the second was that the trolls were no longer flesh but stone. Dawn had come and with it, it seemed Gandalf had as well. He and Thorin were bending over something talking in low voices that she couldn’t hear with Dwalin standing beside his king frowning at what was  being said. “You okay?” Kíli asked for the second time, she nodded and took his hand to stand up.

       “What happened?” she asked rubbing the sore part on the back of her head, she looked around the troll’s camp for the first time in the light, there wasn’t much to it, three logs where the trolls sat around a large campfire, it had seemed so different last night with just the fire giving light and three monstrous trolls threatening them.

       “Trolls turn to stone in the sunlight.” Kíli shrugged, “And Gandalf rescued Bilbo in the nick of time, I think Thorin’s disappointed it wasn’t him, more romantic and what not, but you know that’s life.” Ori snorted, Kíli never took much interest in romantic stories he always liked the ones about kings of old and their great deeds. “You took a nasty blow to the head; you should let Oin take a look at it.”

       “I’ll be okay.” She protested, she didn’t want the old healer to examine her, afraid that with one scrutinizing look he’d see through the bandages that bound what small breasts she already had and realize that she was indeed a woman. “I’m sure he has more pressing injuries to take care of.” The young prince shrugged watching Thorin and not really paying attention to her. “What were they talking about?” she asked as Gandalf gently picked up the small hobbit, Thorin placed a quick kiss to the hobbit’s head before he went out of reach.

       “Taking Bilbo to Rivendell, his burns are quite extensive and Gandalf is many things but a healer is not one of them. He says Lord Elrond of Rivendell can heal him, and we are not far from their hidden valley, but you know elves and dwarves do not have a pleasant history.” Ori nodded, she knew that, she had read many of the books on dwarvish history in the library. She knew about the quarrel over the Silmaril, the fall of Nogrod and Belegost as well as the elvish strong hold Doriath. A rift that had not been mended even after five thousand years, both races had long memories and neither forgave easily.

       “Do you think Lord Elrond will help us?” She asked, she didn’t know much about the elves besides that of the woodland realm in Mirkwood, Kíli and Fíli had gotten the lessons in diplomacy, not that she thought Kíli had actually paid attention to any of them, he was too much of a day dreamer and Balin had always had trouble getting him to focus on lessons. The stories she used to tell her brothers when she’d come home at night from her apprenticeship.

       “Yes.” Ori looked back over at Bilbo again, he didn’t seem to be moving, he didn’t even look alive. He couldn’t just die, not like this, not burnt to death by trolls. He was supposed to die some kind of heroic death saving Thorin from the bad guy like in all the stories. Life couldn’t be this tragic.

       “He’ll-” Ori took a deep breath looking back over at Bilbo again, “he’ll be okay right?” She looked back over at Kíli who was biting his lip also looking over at his uncle’s lover. Ori had watched everybody over the duration of their journey she’d watched both Kíli and Fíli, though Fíli more than Kíli resisted Bilbo and the hobbit’s innocent charm, but in the end he’d won them both over and Ori knew they had begun to look up to both Thorin and Bilbo like the fathers they’d never had. It was nice to watch, they seemed more relaxed, younger than they had before they’d met the exiled dwarven prince and his hobbit lover.

       “I don’t know.” Kíli whispered. She put her arms around his shoulders like she had done many times in the past to soothe the younger boy, Kíli didn’t like breaking down in front of Fíli or Dís believing he had to remain strong for his family, but every once in a while he would let his guard down around Ori and reveal how he truly was feeling. “I just don’t know, Ori.” She tensed up slightly at the use of her name, he hadn’t figured it out, she told herself, he was just using it because that was who usually comforted him.

       A howl rang out through the forested clearing. “Was that a wolf?” someone asked, Ori looked around for the source of the sound but could see nothing.

       “That was no wolf.” Bofur said from where he sat nearby leaning against a tree trying to rest from the lack of sleep that had been last night.

       “Warg!” Dwalin shouted his axes already in his hands as a huge light brown warg charged at the group of dwarves from the trees. Ori felt around her pockets for her sling shot that was still in her pack at the campsite. But the warg didn’t get anywhere near any of them because Dwalin and Bofur took care of it before it could take another step. “There will be more.” Dwalin warned. Ori looked over at where Thorin and Gandalf had taken a stance to protect Bilbo, Gandalf had the hobbit in his arms and Thorin was walking towards them a pained look in his face.

       “Grab the packs and the ponies.” He barked.

       “Come on.” Kíli said tugging on Ori’s arm and leading her away from the troll’s campsite and back to the abandoned farmer’s house.

~Trollshaws~

       Fíli hadn’t meant to trip over the bag, but it had been lying haphazardly on the ground, and the bound brown book had spilt out along with a pencil that was nearly halfway gone. The book had opened up to some random page full of runes that detailed their journey much like a journeyman or a scribe might do, but none of the members of their company were journeymen or scribes or had been trained as such, except Balin but this wasn’t his bag. He began to flip through the pages trying to find out who was writing this, but whoever it was wrote it like an observer, if they were in their writings they referred to themselves in third person. Sometimes they would draw a picture of an exotic bird or a flower that had been seen on the road that day, and the artwork seemed familiar somehow, he’d seen artwork like it before. Then he drew Bilbo’s smial Bag End which was quite beautiful as a pencil sketch.

       He heard shouting but hardly looked up, the trolls were gone, and the group had ten experienced warriors there, he wasn’t needed and he was intrigued by the work he was reading and looking at. He’d never seen such dedication before to a journeyman’s work.

       Bifur ran up shouting something in ancient Khuzdul about wargs but Fíli wasn’t paying much attention to him, he was too busy staring down at the sketch of himself that had been drawn two days ago in the book. He knew this artist, he knew who had drawn all these pictures and detailed their journey, who had been trained since she was fifty years old to be a scribe. Someone who he had explicitly forbidden coming on this journey.

       “There you are Fee,” he heard his brother say but hardly saw his younger brother too busy staring at the redhead who had arrived with him. “What are you looking at?” Fíli ignored him and walked up to Loni the journal still in his hands.

       “I believe this is yours, Ori.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): First and foremost I would like to thank my reviewers and those that leave me kudos, it makes me really happy when I see both. Second an apology for being so late again, writing has not come easy to me this past month, I have been really stressed out about starting college (today was my first day of class) and I rewrote this chapter three times. The story has taken a life of it's own too, I did not expect Bilbo to get hurt at Trollshaws, but I have found a way to use it to my advantage in later chapters. I would like to apologize if I made him appear weak, I assure you that wasn't my intentions and I hope to show you that he has inner strength later on. Please comment, review, let me know what you think.
> 
> Re-edits: 1/27/15: Spelling corrections


	8. Chapter Eight

Waiting, he was just waiting, waiting for a lot of things to happen, for Fíli to stop brooding, for Kíli to come back with some food, for the ability to meet the girl that had captured his nephew’s heart, to really meet her as Ori and not as Loni, but most importantly he was waiting for Bilbo to wake up. Elrond said it would take a couple of days, that Bilbo’s wounds were extensive and he would need time for his body and mind to heal from the trauma. There would be scars, scars that Bilbo would carry for the rest of his life. They were mostly on his back, the ones you could see at least. If he had gotten there a little bit faster, if he hadn’t been angry at Gandalf maybe Bilbo and Ori wouldn’t have left the campsite, there were lots of what if’s, and he’d learned in his many experiences of life that saying what if solved nothing, but sitting in the chair for three days watching the love of his life sleep while recuperating from wounds Thorin couldn’t help but play the what if game.

       “Uncle,” Kíli said turning Thorin’s attention from the hobbit lying on the bed in front of him to the young dwarf standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands that had a bowl on it with something steaming within that bowl. “It’s soup. The elves say it’s their most famous recipe.” Thorin snorted but took the tray from his youngest nephew anyway and placed it on the table beside the bed. “I don’t like this, Uncle.”

       “Don’t like what, Kíli?” Thorin asked picking up the spoon and dipping it into the slightly opaque soup. What was this made from?

       “Fíli and Ori fighting, Bilbo like this, I don’t want to lose my family.” Thorin nodded and took a tiny taste of the elvish soup. It tasted like wild onions and chicken mixed together, not bad for elvish food.

       “Family is the most important treasure you can have.” Thorin said, “Many dwarves will tell you precious metals or even the Arkenstone, but they’re wrong Kíli, not all treasure is silver and gold.”

       “Mom used to say something similar.” Kíli said with a small smile, his eyes distant. No doubly thinking about the incredibly strong darrowdam that was his mother. Dís had always been an incredibly strong person and Thorin could hardly imagine how much she’d become stronger in the past seventy years since his banishment and the death of her husband. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

       “I’m sure she’s fine. Your mother is an incredibly strong woman and I’ve always been proud to call her my sister.” Thorin said with a soft smile to his nephew. “You look a lot like her.”

       “She always said I looked like you. That we had the same glare and eyes.”

       “You’ve got your father’s personality though. Víli always loved jokes and life and he was brilliant with a bow. Dwalin and I used to tease him quite often about how he was a small elf with the way he used that bow.” Kíli sat down on the stool beside him and looked over Bilbo. “Fíli will forgive Ori in the end. He loves her, and I don’t believe she will give up on him.” Kíli nodded but said no more and so Thorin finished the soup in silence. The boy was wise beyond his years, though he didn’t always act it, and he would be alright, Thorin was sure of it.

       “I can’t believe her nerve!” Fíli shouted storming into Bilbo’s room breaking the silence that had fallen over his brother and uncle, both looked at him as he entered the room but said nothing to him until he pulled up another stool from across the small room and sat down beside Kíli. “Why couldn’t she have just listened to me?” He put his head in his hands and let out a muffled shout. Kíli put a hand on his shoulder and Thorin continued to hold Bilbo’s hands trying to think of what to say. He didn’t know Ori that well, he knew that she and Fíli were romantically involved and that she was Nori and Dori’s little sister as well that she was a commoner.

       “What has she done now?” Kíli asked.

       “Barricaded herself in the library, the elves have taken a fancy to her so they won’t let me in. How in the world am I supposed to talk to her about all this if she won’t talk to me?” Fíli let out a loud groan and rubbed his hands in his hair before he lightly touched one of the beads that was braided into his beard. Thorin recognized the design as a being one of courting, one of Ori’s then, it was excellent craftsmanship, she’d probably worked a long time on it.

       “Give her time.” Thorin said, “She’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk.”

       “Why should I wait for when she’s ready? She’s the one who broke my trust.” Fíli snapped. “Why should I have to wait for anybody I am-” Kíli’s fist connected with Fíli’s nose before the elder dwarven prince could say anything more. From the shocked look on Fíli’s face Thorin could tell this kind of violent outburst from his younger brother was not a normal thing.

       “How dare you.” Kíli growled, “How dare you say such things. You love Ori, you would do anything for her. And she was willing to risk her life to follow you because she loves you. You’re the one who yelled at her, of course she’s barricaded herself in the library, you’ve hurt her Fee. You’ve hurt her and you can’t even see it can you?” Thorin watched the transformation on his nephew’s face, the realization of what was going on, and it made him nervous. He’d seen this many years ago on his own brother’s face when Frerin would lash out against him or Dís, it was the beginning signs of the madness that would follow. At least he wasn’t fighting over a toy or some pretty jewel at the marketplace or hoarding books in a private library where no one else could read them. He was being possessive over a person and Thorin wasn’t sure if that was better or not.

       “I-I-I-” Fíli stammered as if trying to figure out what he was doing. “I’ve got to go to Ori, I’ve got to apologize, oh Mahal, I said terrible things.” The young dwarf tried to stand up but seemed shaky on his feet as he did so.

       “Sit Fíli,” Thorin ordered, and surprisingly his nephew listened. “I want to tell you a story, a story about the past so that we may learn from it in the future. Understand?” Both Fíli and Kíli nodded. Thorin leaned back slightly on the stool and closed his eyes picturing the sea shore where he had first heard the story, the story of the elvish lovers and the jewels that had wrought their destruction.

“I met an elf one time on the sea shore near Ered Luin, he was a sad elf and he sang many songs of grief during the short period of time that I was with him. He told me he was a wanderer, doomed to wander Middle Earth forever for crimes he had committed long ago. He had an ancient look in his eyes, one older then Elrond or Thranduil or any other elf I had ever met, a look that told me he had seen things that are only in our myths now. This is the story he told me.

       “There was once an elvish prince named Fingon who was loved by many for his kindness and wisdom but he was especially loved by one known as Maedhros another elvish prince, but one not so beloved as Fingon for his father was known to be volatile and self-destructive and many feared that the handsome young elf prince would take after his father. Maedhros often called Fingon Valiant, though where the name came from none know now. Many years passed that they were separated by the sea and their father’s dislike of each other. One day while fighting the enemy Maedhros was captured and chained to a rock for all of the enemy to see. None of the other elves were brave enough to attempt a rescue and so the young elvish prince had resigned himself to a death of torture. For many long years he was chained to that rock, but one day Fingon came looking for him and could not find him. And so he went to Maedhros’s brothers and asked for him and they informed the other elf of their eldest brother’s fate. But Fingon could not accept that there was no hope for his friend and so he called upon the Valar Manwë to help him rescue the young prince. And Manwë heard his pleas and sent a huge eagle so large Fingon could ride on it to rescue the redhead prince. When he got to where Maedhros was chained he found that he could not cut the chain away from him, Maedhros begged Fingon to kill him and set him free but Fingon would accept that fate. He cut off Maedhros’s right hand and rescued the young elven prince from his fate.

       “It is said that was when they first became lovers. Many years passed by them, times of peace and of war, Fingon had now become the king after his father was slain fighting the greatest evil this world has ever seen. They had often met in secret to consummate their love, for it was forbidden back then among elves for two men to love especially when they are kin. Then one day on a great battlefield Fingon was slain while waiting for Maedhros’s men to help him unknowing that Maedhros had been betrayed by one of his advisors, and though Maedhros had survived the battle many of his own men had not. It is said he was never the same afterwards, often haunted by Fingon’s voice asking him why he had not rescued him in the battle like he had promised. And so Maedhros threw himself into finding three sacred jewels that had been stolen from his father’s house. And he killed many elves for them, and became known as the kinslayer. He lost all of his brothers save one in the fighting. When he recovered the jewels he and his brother found that they could no longer touch the sacred items for they had become impure in their quest to find them. Unable to cope with the loss of Fingon and his father’s jewels Maedhros threw himself in a fiery chasm. It is believed that even now Fingon waits for Maedhros in Valinor, though many believe Maedhros will never leave Mandos’s halls.” His two nephews were silent as he finished his story.

“The elf told me his story was a warning, a warning of what happens when you let greed and hate consume you. In the end it will do nothing but destroy you and everyone around you.” Thorin continued. “Don’t cling to stones with a clenched fist.” That was a dwarfish proverb, told by every dwarven mother to their children when teaching them to share. But Thorin had found that it was also applicable to many different aspects of life including love, and the future.

       “It was Maglor who told you that story.” Said Lord Elrond who stood in the doorway to Bilbo’s room, Thorin hadn’t even been aware the elven lord had been standing there till he spoke. “Maglor was the remaining brother of Maedhros, and the only one who knows his brother’s story in such detail.”

       “And the jewels that they went after, that Maedhros and his brothers killed so many elves over, that was the Silmarils wasn’t it?” Fíli asked. “Ori came across the story one time in a book in the library in Erebor. It was an old book, mostly about the fall of Doriath and the elves sacking Nogrod. I thought it was a book of legends, not history.”

       “All legends are history.” Elrond said, his voice was calm and serene as he spoke. He was wiser than his Sindarian counterpart in Mirkwood, though Thorin was sure Thranduil was nowhere near as old as Lord Elrond. “They just make some characters larger than life than they were in history either good or ill. Maedhros was a troubled soul, but a gentle one. He really wished no ill will on anyone, but felt honor bound to find the Silmarils for his dead father. He and Maglor raised me and my brother Elros after my mother left to find help from the Valar.”

       Thorin watched for a few minutes as Elrond looked over Bilbo checking his vitals and making sure the hobbit was still on his way to recovery. Thorin was grateful to the elven lord for his help though he was sure that Elrond helping Bilbo had something more to do with the fact that Gandalf was Elrond’s friend then Bilbo was some poor helpless traveler who had been attacked by trolls. Whatever the reason the elves had helped them he was grateful and he would not forget his debts he owed to them. “Bilbo will play an important role in shaping Erebor’s future.” Elrond said quite suddenly and his voice pulled all three of the dwarves out of their thoughts and back into the world.

       “How?” Kíli asked, he loomed over Bilbo as if the hobbit had changed quite suddenly, but Bilbo didn’t look any different than he had a minute ago. “Is he going to remove Frerin from the throne himself?”

       “That I cannot see.” Elrond said, “You must have faith in him though.” Kíli nodded as did Thorin.

       “Lord Elrond, do you know of a way someone with Gold sickness can be cured?” Thorin asked. He was sure it was not a common ailment, he’d only heard of it once in a legend of a dwarf from long ago. But if anyone on Middle Earth would know of a cure of the illness other than death it would the dark haired elf lord in front of him.

       “I do not know, it is not a sickness many dwarves will talk about. Do you not have a cure, Master Dwarf?” Elrond asked, his question was not snide in anyway though Thorin was sure many of his kin would see it that way but he had humbled himself too many times to allow comment such as these to bother him.

       “Only death.” Thorin replied, he didn’t want to kill his brother or lock him up in any way if there was another way to cure him. He loved Frerin despite their grievances and if it was gold madness causing him to act this way then how could he blame his brother for it? Elrond nodded, and turned to exit the small room that had become crowded with his entry.

       “I have an extensive library, I shall see what I can find.” He said before departing from the room. Thorin felt gratitude towards the elf, not many would help an evil dwarf who had committed many crimes against his people even if he was sick. He thought back to what Elrond had said about Maedhros and wondered if that was his reasoning.

~Rivendell~

       Ori sat in the farthest back chair she could find in Elrond’s library, one of the other elves, Lindir his name might have been, said she could stay in it for as long as she wanted. It was a treasure trove of places, there were many stories in here she’d never heard of, many histories. The elf lord’s library rivaled that of the library in Erebor, but with an endless life one probably had to find many things to keep entertained. It was quiet in this part of the library, which was one of the reason she had retreated so far back, other elves came in and out of it and she preferred not to be gawked at while she was reading. Many outsiders had not seen an female dwarf before. The other reason was so that Fíli could not find her, his hateful words to her still rang in her ears as she read a book on the former kingdom of Arnor which had been overrun by orcs many years ago and divided up into smaller kingdoms afterwards. She didn’t look up as a pair of heavy leather boots walked towards her and then stopped a few feet from her.

       “Ori, I’m sorry.” The miner was not whom she had expected an apology from, Bofur had been nothing but supportive of her choice to follow the Company, he had helped her in, stuck by her. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Dori refused to speak to her, said he was ashamed of her actions, that she had risked her life so needlessly, he was an extreme traditionalist and Ori knew that, he had always tried to protect her and keep her at home. She could remember when she came home with the news that Balin had chosen her out of all the applicants to be his apprentice, the first darrowdam to be chosen to be a Master Scribe, Dori had yelled and shouted about how she belonged at home and not off gallivanting with nobles who would only scorn her later on. She never told him about her and Fíli’s courtship or their wish to get married, too afraid of what he’d say. Dori hated Erebor’s nobility with a fiery passion that came from the many whispers of Clan Ri being from the wrong side of a noble’s bed. It wasn’t true, any of it, Clan Ri was a wealthy family and was distantly related to the line of Durin, but Ori’s grandfather had ticked off some of the nobility and so they’d started the rumors that had never stopped. Dori had never forgiven them for the slander.

       And Fíli, Fíli was hurt. She had hurt him really bad with this stunt.

       “It’s not your fault.” Ori said, “I was the one who was so desperate to come with you, with him.” Bofur smiled warmly at her, and she found herself smiling back despite how rotten she felt inside. He’d always had that ability, to make someone smile even when they didn’t want to. She had known the toymaker miner her whole life, he was Nori’s best friend, always had been. They’d met in school or somewhere like it. Nori had been Bofur’s witness at his wedding when he’d married Lorti, and he had always been someone Ori could talk to when she didn’t want to tell her brothers something. If Dori was her parent and Nori was the absent brother then Bofur was the cheerful uncle in Ori’s life.

       “You haven’t braided your beads back yet.” Bofur noted, Ori glanced down, oh she hadn’t yet had she? Right. She was waiting to put them back in. It would feel slightly weird to plait her beard again, she had gotten used to having a single beard.

       “I don’t know where Fíli and I stand to put my courting beads back in.” She said staring straight ahead at the shelves of books in front of her instead of at Bofur. “And I dunno why I hadn’t braided back in the Clan Ri beads, laziness I guess. I want to do them all at once.”

       “They’ll forgive ya, they're just hurt.” Bofur said. Ori nodded, she hoped so, it would make for a long trip back to Erebor if they didn’t, or maybe she’d just stay with the elves, they liked her. They were nice to her and let her read out of their library and she could have conversations about history and other literature and they would respond back with the same enthusiasm she felt. Sometimes, and not for the first time, Ori wondered if she’d been born the wrong species. She wasn’t very good at metal work, it took her a long time to make Fíli’s courting bead and she’d restarted it and restarted it many times, Fee had said he didn’t mind, that it made it more special because she had to put more time and effort than a normal dwarf did, showed her dedication. Many other dwarves just thought she was weird and abnormal. “I’ll let ya get back to ya readen’.” Ori nodded but not before leaning up to give the miner a kiss on the cheek, Bofur ruffled her hair slightly making her pout and left her to her book and her thoughts.

       As interesting as the elven perspective on the history of Arnor was it couldn’t keep her truly focused, her thoughts kept drifting to another kingdom in the heart of a mountain on the other side of a vast forest, and it’s blond hair prince. The bastard. She hoped Erebor would not face the same destruction as the humans had in Arnor overrun by orcs and bad leaders. They certainly had, had their share of bad leaders but she was sure that with Thorin and Fíli taking power that Erebor would see a new golden time ahead of them.

       “Lady Ori,” one of the attendants at  the library said coming up to her. “The prince is requesting to see you.” The elves had been really kind to her after Fíli had nearly attacked her in the guest quarters of Rivendell; they had barred the dwarven prince from the library and allowed her to be in there for as long as she wanted. She knew Fíli was angry, and hurt by her deception but she felt there was more to his actions then just his anger, she was afraid that like his uncle Fíli was starting to develop symptoms of gold sickness. She would have to watch out if that was the case, if someone hadn’t gone off the edge with the sickness there were ways of stopping it from developing. “Do you wish to see him?”

       Did she want to see him? Had she forgiven him yet for his cruel words? And what if he just had more cruel words for her? Could she survive without him? Yes, yes, she could. She was no weeping darrowdam who pined away for a lover who would never return. She had followed him into this mess, she had held her own for the whole journey, and more then that she was a Ori of Clan Ri and Ri’s were not known for weak nature. They were stubborn and didn’t give up easily. Her whole life wasn’t dependent on some blond dwarf prince that was being a royal arse even if he was coming down with gold sickness. She could survive without him, and she would if need be.

       “Tell Prince Fíli that I will permit him to see me.” Ori said putting her book down on the shelf beside her. The library attendant nodded and turned on his heel to walk back to the guard to let Fíli in.

       He didn’t grovel or ask for forgiveness, he just stood there in front of her as if expecting her to make the first move. He looked calm to an outsider but to anyone who could read Durin blue his eyes gave away the terror he was trying to mask. He was afraid, afraid to lose her. “I- I don’t want to be Maedhros.” He said finally after they had stared at each other for what felt like five minutes. She frowned slightly; he had stared at her for a while and then spoke cryptically to her.

       “Who?” she asked,

       “Uncle- he told a story about an elf prince named Maedhros who went crazy after losing the love of his life. He blamed himself for his lover’s death and went crazy, and long story short he jumped into a fiery chasm because he couldn’t take what he’d done. I don’t want to do that Ori. I don’t want to go crazy from regret because I lost you, because I forced you away from me. I want you to always be there by my side, I want you to be my queen, my consort, my everything, Ori.” He reached out as if to touch her face but he wasn’t close enough. “Be my Optimistic Ori.” She giggled as the name, it had originally been made up by Kíli after she’d spoken about her dreams when she was younger, how she’d be a master scribe and bring honor back to her family and the kingdom would be treated better and all the things in the world would be fixed. Kíli had called her an optimist and the name had stuck.

       “I have these beads.” Ori said plucking the twine rope she’d strung the beads on. “I usually wear them in my beard but I’ve had to wear them like this for a while. Do you want to help put them back in?” Fíli was at her side in two steps, his hands rested on both of the armrests of the chair and he leaned down a placed a kiss to her lips, she tangled her fingers in the hair that fell beside his face to keep him close to her. “Don’t you ever dare try to leave me behind again.” She growled slightly though she was sure it wasn’t very threatening to Fíli.

       “Would dream of it.” He whispered back kissing her nose.

~Rivendell~

       Bilbo could hear them long before he could see them, Thorin’s murmurs to wake up soon, Kíli’s attempts to make conversation with his uncle. He could feel the warm of Thorin’s hands on his own, a nice pleasant feeling that reminded him of their many years in Bag End, he hoped to have plenty more of them with Thorin in Erebor. It started with the warmth of the sun tickling his nose, he wriggled it trying to make the feeling dissipate and inhaled a large breath of fresh air, it was deeply refreshing and he began to will his eyes to open so that he could see his surroundings. He felt safe wherever he was, and Thorin was there beside him so the trolls obviously hadn’t eaten him, or maybe they had and Thorin had died with him. No, no, he wouldn’t do that, Bilbo argued with himself, Thorin wouldn’t kill himself just because he had died. Another voice in his head told him that his dwarf lover most certainly would. Now Bilbo had to open his eyes to make sure that his ridiculous dwarven lover had not killed himself because he had died.

       The cream ceiling was high vaulted and reminded Bilbo of the gazebo in hobbiton were many hobbits got married only this was certainly more elegant. Where was he? He turned his head slightly to see Kíli sitting beside his uncle, head down, and eyes closed; he looked peaceful in his sleep. “I’m not dead am I?” he asked the actually awake dwarf, blue eyes sparkled with mirth.

       “No my love, you are very much alive.” Thorin said, smiling as he did so and Bilbo began to smile as well, he’d missed that smile, he’d missed that smile very much.

       “You should smile more often Thorin, it suits you.”

       “I told you he’d wake up today.” Kíli said, oh so the lad hadn’t been sleeping, Kíli was dreadfully hard to wake most mornings. “I told you that all good things come in pairs, at least that’s what mother always said.”

       “I’m sure Dís wasn’t talking about you and your brother when she said so.” Thorin grumbled good naturedly, Bilbo laughed and wondered what other good thing had happened today.

       “Ori and Fíli began talking today again.” Kíli explained at Bilbo’s puzzled looks. Ori? Who was Ori? Wasn’t that the darrowdam that had captured Fíli’s heart and stolen him away from Loni? Why was she here, wasn’t she supposed to be in Erebor? So why was she here in wherever they were? Unless they were in Erebor, somehow this didn’t feel like what a dwarven city would feel like, this reminded Bilbo more of what an eleven home might look like.

       “Ori?” He asked simply.

       “Loni,” Thorin said, “Was Ori in disguise; she went against Fíli and her brother Dori’s wishes and traveled with them to the Shire and back.” Oh. Suddenly Bilbo felt embarrassed for disliking Ori, he’d jumped to conclusions about Loni and Fíli and thought that Ori was some horrible woman, but in reality Ori was the loveable Loni that he’d grown quite close to. Though that did explain the looks and the drawings, she was just missing the closeness with Fíli, was pining for him because she couldn’t be close to him. That must have been even more painful, to have him so close and yet so far away, knowing that he loved her but not being able to feel his loving eyes on her. “She’ll be happy to know you’ve awakened. She was in here earlier but had to leave.”

       “I’m uh- I’m going to uh- leave the two of you alone now.” Kíli said standing up and walking backward towards the door as awkwardly as he could.

       “What was that about?” Bilbo asked after the young dwarf had left. He glanced over to look a Thorin again who was now fiddling with something in his pocket. “Thorin?”

       “While you were sleeping uh- well I did a lot of thinking- and I uh- well-” Thorin took a deep breath. “Bilbo, tell me you’ll be mine forever.”

       “Thorin, I- I don’t understand.” Bilbo said trying to slide out of the bed to hug the slightly distraught dwarf.

       “Marry me Bilbo; tell me you’ll marry me. I know I’m not prepared, I don’t have a bead made to pledge you to me, I know that it’s very unseemly of me not have asked your relatives firs-” Bilbo cut him off with a swift kiss to the lips.

       “Yes.”

~Rivendell~

       It was a few days after Thorin’s proposal to him that Bilbo found himself in Lord Elrond’s study with Thorin and Fíli with Lord Elrond talking about gold sickness, the ailment that had befallen the Line of Durins in Erebor. “There is only way that I have found in any text besides death to cure this sickness. It is only mentioned once, in an old text of the First Age when the world was much younger then it is now. I do not know if it’ll work.” Elrond explained.

       “It is our best hope for Frerin.” Thorin said.

       “The person who has this ailment would have to humble himself before all the Valar and Illúvatar their creator and give them their plea. Only then would he be cured.” Elrond said looking each in the eye.

       “That sounds relatively simple.” Bilbo said, there had to be more. Why would the elf lord seem uncertain it would work if it was that simple?

       “Bilbo, someone who has fallen to gold sickness isn’t reasonable; gold is all they can think about and how to obtain more of it.” Thorin said, “For them to humble themselves is a big deal because it would mean that they care more about something else then gold and treasure. That is what truly breaks the gold sickness is it not?” Lord Elrond nodded. “Humbling yourself before the Valar and Ilúvatar is really just a statement.”

  “Ilúvatar is the one who truly heals the mind.” Elrond said, “That is why your brother must humble himself before him. But yes, it is the act of humbling oneself that allows the process to happen. Once the cycle is broken the Line of Durin will never have to worry about gold sickness ever again.” Relief flooded Thorin and Fíli’s face and Bilbo wanted to be a smile, with any luck if Thorin and Fíli could keep control of themselves and not fall ill the gold sickness would die with Frerin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): So it's been an idea floating around in my head for a while that Thorin met Maglor on his wanderings during his banishments but I had no idea how to incorporate it. Sorry to all of those who have never read the Simarillion but that was Thorin's story in a nutshell. I'm in school now so updates will be more sporatic but I will work on chapters as much as I can.  
> Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a comment and kudos.
> 
> Re-write 1/27/15: Spelling corrections, changed parts of Thorin's story, and cutting down on Fili's to Ori. You don't need the same story twice.


	9. Chapter Nine

Kíli was glad that his brother and Ori had made up in Rivendell, it made this leg of the journey that much more enjoyable as they climbed the Misty Mountains. This had been the hardest part of the journey going to the Shire, and excluding the incident with the trolls, which looking back hadn’t been so bad, would likely be the hardest part of their journey going back to Erebor. He was looking forward to seeing his mother again. He missed her dearly, she was such an ingrained part of his life, and he half expected to see her when he woke up sometimes in the mornings. He truly believed that darrowdams were just as strong as darrows, if not more. His mother had survived for so long without his father, and managed to organize a full fledge rebellion against her brother, all while raising two rambunctious dwarflings. And Ori, quiet Ori, optimistic Ori, she had survived her parent dying and being raised by her two brothers, her One being a prince who was supposed to marry a dwarven princess from a far away land, had followed them on their quest to find their other uncle, and now was having to deal with her older brother’s stupidity. Dori hadn’t spoken a word to Ori since Fíli revealed the truth about Loni to everyone, he hadn’t spoken to Nori either as Nori had apparently helped Ori with her disguise. Kíli was glad though she was here, she had always been there for the past thirty years since they were quite young being tutored by Balin, always following them around. Getting them out of their worst mischief, she was like his mother, he just always expected her to be there. She was his best friend just as much as his brother was.

He sighed as he watched the dying fire crackle, he hated watch. He tossed the runestone up in the air and the caught it again. It was his promise to his mother, his promise to tossed it up in the air again and caught it wishing for his watch to be over. He wanted to curl up in his bedroll again beside Ori, he didn’t like jumping at every sound thinking that he was hearing wargs in the darkness of the night. That the orc that had been hunting them had finally caught up with them. “Must be your time for the watch then.” Bilbo said, making Kíli jump almost ten feet in the air.

“Mahal, Bilbo, give a dwarf some warning before you speak.” He said, the wind knocked out of him. The hobbit chuckled slightly and then sat on the log beside him.

“Wish I brought my pipe with me, what I wouldn’t give for some longbottom leaf right now.” Bilbo said wistfully, looking up at the starry sky. “These are quite the mountains to climb, huh?” Kíli nodded, he didn’t know what to say to his uncle’s intended, he had known Bilbo as long as he had known his uncle, and as much as he liked the hobbit, he didn’t always know what to say to him. He tossed his stone up again while Bilbo looked up at the stars. “Something is worrying you, Kíli.” He almost didn’t catch the runestone.

“How-?”

“Thorin gets the same look in his eyes.” Bilbo explained. “He worries quite a bit you know.” Kíli snorted, it didn’t surprise him, his mother was a worrier too, he must have inherited it too, only he was better at keeping it hidden, would ruin his reputation as being carefree.

“Its Fíli.” He found himself saying without meaning to. “Frerin hired an orc to torture him, we gave him the slip heading to the Shire, but I think he’s found us again.” A few days ago he’d been at the back of the group, they’d been climbing through a very narrow ledge and he’d just happened to look down at the right moment and saw a warg with an orc rider. A spy following them. “He’s after Uncle Thorin too.” he whispered in an even lower voice. “Thorin cut off his hand, and he wants revenge.” Bilbo stilled, his fists tight, and one hand absently moved to the dagger Gandalf had given him after he’d woken up in Rivendell. The wizard had found it when he’d gone back to the troll’s camp and found a hoard of precious items in a nearby cave. He’d also found two elven swords made in a bygone age in place only Ori probably had heard about, he’d given one of them to Thorin. “Don’t you worry though, Uncle Bilbo, I’ll keep them safe.” He would keep them safe, he wasn’t going to lose his family, after just putting it back together.

“Uncle Bilbo?” the hobbit asked, Kíli nodded.

“You’re going to become my uncle sooner or later, Thorin did ask you to marry him.” Bilbo ruffled his hair and chuckled a bit.

“I guess you’re right. I never expected to ever be an uncle. I’m an only child, and Thorin mentioned he had a nephew, but I never thought I’d get to met either one of them. He’s proud of  you two though, you’ve turned into fine dwarves.”

They sat together quietly, Bilbo looking up at the stars and Kíli tossing the stone up and down till it was Bifur’s turn for watch. Then Kíli fumbled his way over to his bedroll and laid down, practically asleep before his head hit the blanket.

Ori woke him up the next morning, hissing that Thorin was threatening to leave him behind if he didn’t get up soon. Kíli knew his uncle wouldn’t do that, or at least Fíli wouldn’t let him do that, and Bilbo too, probably. He got up though, no use in actually finding out if his uncle would leave him behind, and ate the cram that Bombur passed out for breakfast. Then they were on their way once more up the mountains. The day passed without event, no one really talked much, too focused on climbing the mountains, but at least it was warm and sunny. They weren’t crossing the mountains in the early spring like last time, that had been some pretty bad weather. He smiled as he listened to a bird sing in a nearby. He was so busy listening to the bird that he hadn’t realized that he had gotten too close to the edge of the ledge they were walking on till it was too late. He would have walked right off if Fíli hadn’t grabbed his arm in time. Neither Ori nor Fíli let him out of their sight for the rest of the day, and he slept between them that night, both of them wrapping their arms around him as if afraid he would wander off if they let go. Their fears  may have been abit founded about that.

The next day was uneventful till the rain started mid-afternoon, though that was probably considered uneventful too, Kíli decided, he just didn’t like getting wet. Then the thunderstorm started up, he’d seen thunderstorms before, watched them from Erebor’s battlements as they swept in off the lake in the summers. They were beautiful in their own way, but this thunderstorm was like none he’d ever experienced before, it shook the mountains. “Watch out!” someone shouted, probably Dwalin, as a rock came flying towards them. He pushed himself against the cliff face that they were walking along, rocks were flying off of it from above. Out of the corner of his eye Kíli swore he saw something big move, but he didn’t know what till he turned to look, a huge giant was coming out of the mountain, as if it were apart of the mountain.

“Giants!” Bofur shouted, “Stone giants.”

“This is no storm, its a thunder battle.” Balin called out as the stone giant across from them threw a boulder at another stone giant.

Then the cliff underneath them started to split. “Fíli!” he shouted to his brother who was just ahead of him, just on the other side of the crack that was widening.

“Kíli, Ori!” Fíli shouted, reaching his hand out to grab either of them. But they gap was too big, and Kíli didn’t dare jump it to join his brother, he could fall and who knows where he would have ended up. “Protect Ori.” Fíli begged, he nodded, turning to the darrowdam just behind him who would share in this ride with him. They weren’t the only two who had been separated, Dwalin and Bombur was with them.

“Fíli!” Ori shouted as he covered her while the rocks reigned down on their heads. He glanced over to the other group whose stone giant knee they'd been on crashed back beside the cliff face so they were able to scramble and get off. “We’re going to get off this alive?” Ori asked him as their leg teetered.

He opened mouth to answer her question, but he had no way of knowing. And their chances of survival seemed to be dwindling as their leg swung about, the head having been knocked off and rocks rained down upon them. “Ori, get down!” he shouted remembering his last promise to his brother to protect her, covering her body with his as they headed straight for the side of a cliff.

~Misty Mountains~

The knee of the stone giant that had once been but a simple cliff face to them smashed into the side of the cliff, taking all five of the dwarves who had been on it down with them. “Kíli!” Thorin shouted, his heart stopping for just a second as he watched the cliff face fall away, there was no sign of any who had been on it. He could feel Bilbo grab his arm in horror, but there was nothing any of them could do they were gone. Bombur, Bofur, Ori, Dwalin, and Kíli were gone.

“No!” He heard the anguished cry of his elder nephew from behind, “No!” Thorin looked back to see that Balin was holding the boy back from doing anything rash. “Kíli, Ori!”

“We need to find shelter.” He ordered, they could go no further tonight, not with the thunder battle raging, and the grief of losing kin. He hadn’t watched his youngest nephew grow up, hadn’t even known the boy existed till two and a half months ago when he’d shown up with the Company, but he had grown to love him. Such a spirited child, not quite of age, he was really too young to have gone on this journey, too young to die. How would he explain this to Dís, how would he be able to look her in the eye and tell her that her youngest was gone, smashed to death by stone giants, who likely hadn’t even realized they were there, in the Misty Mountains.

He could hear Fíli’s protest, that they needed to look for them, they couldn’t just give up, and Thorin closed his eyes wishing he could take his nephew’s grief from him. There was nothing left of the five who had been trapped on that stone giant. He continued to press forward, they still had nine members to look after, if they could find shelter near enough he would go out tomorrow morning when the weather was clear enough and look for signs of their survival or death. But he would not risk anymore lives, not tonight. Balin found a cave just around the bend, a cave that if they’d been a little bit faster they all could have taken refuge in and survived the night, but fate and Mahal it would seem was not with them.

“This is your fault!” he heard Dori roar as he spoke quietly with Balin about checking the back of the cave to make sure nothing was there. If anything was inhabiting the cave, they certainly would have heard that. He turned to say something to the weaver who had  advanced on his only remaining nephew. Fíli sat on the floor of the cave staring into the space between his knees, not even paying attention to the silver haired dwarf shouting at him. “She wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you!” Half the company, including Bilbo stood up in Fíli defense but it was Nori who spoke out against Dori.

“Leave him alone,” Nori shouted, pushing his brother away from the blond prince. “Can’t you see he’s distressed enough? He’s lost everything tonight.” The thief's voice cracked a little when he spoke, as if he was trying to suppress his own grief. Thorin’s heart went out to him, Nori had lost Dwalin and his sister tonight, just ask Fíli had lost Ori and his brother.

“Sleep.” Thorin said, he tried to keep his tone neutral, as to not betray the grief he too felt. He was the leader, he had to remain strong in the wake of loss, had to keep the other ones from losing hope. “We are all tired, and our grief will remain till morning.” He remembered the exhaustion he felt after losing Beren, after losing everyone in their company, men he had fought with for five years, good men. Men who’d had wives and families killed by orcs, men who had stolen from a lord to provide bread for their families. He had lit the whole field on fire, watching the bodies of orc and men alike burn. He had wanted to scream then like he wanted to scream now. The grief becoming too much to just hold inside, but he was a prince, and he could not wear his emotions like others could.

“You should sleep too.” Bilbo said quietly, laying out their bedrolls beside each other. Thorin shook his head, he would keep watch tonight, he would deal with his grief that way. In thought and memory, by keeping everyone safe.

“Take care of Fíli for me tonight.” Bilbo wrapped his arms around him, and then went to go move his bedroll beside Fíli’s.

The cave fell silent as the other members of the company fell asleep leaving Thorin the only one awake. He stared at the cave wall across from him. He thought his days of losing those he cared about was over, he had thought Mahal would grant him peace for the rest of his life. Hadn’t he done enough to deserve some peace? Wasn’t losing his home enough? Wandering in the wilderness by himself enough? Losing Beren in such a brutal fashion? Now Dwalin, the last of his shield brothers was dead, his childhood friend. His silent support, the one he had trusted with his family’s protection, Dwalin was dead now too. And Bofur and Bombur, the two children he had saved the day he was banished. He could still remember the day he and Dís met them in the market along with Bifur, buying toys for Fíli who had still been in his mother’s womb. Their smiles they had given them, Bombur had been missing one of his front teeth at the time. He thought he had been doing them a favor by speaking out against their punishment, it was likely they wouldn’t have survived it. But really it would seem he had made things worse. His grandfather had died only two years after his banishment, and Frerin was worse than him. If he hadn’t been banished he would have been king, and he would have been a good king and there would have been no need for the Company. No need for anyone to die for him. What about all the people he had saved? What about Beren who would have died on the streets if he hadn’t taken in the curly red-head in? The King of Rohan who he had saved? The villages they had saved from the orcs. Were they worth all of Erebor’s suffering? Was meeting Bilbo worth it all?

He glanced over at the hobbit’s sleeping form. Bilbo was the best thing that had happened to him since Fíli’s birth, but he hadn’t been able to protect him from the horrors of the world. The hobbit wouldn’t have scars on his back if he had stayed in the Shire. Then there was the matter of Fíli and Ori, they were both quite young to be betrothed, and that was all because Frerin wanted to marry Fíli off to some Firebeard princess, it was almost completely unheard of that someone who had met their One would be married off in a political arrangement. If he’d been king, he never would have put either one of them in this situation. He had failed them all. He had failed Kíli by leaving Frerin in charge and making Víli desperate enough to organize a rebellion only to die before either one of his sons were old enough to know him. He had failed his brother by failing to recognize the madness within him, if he had become king of Erebor, he might have been able to stave of the madness.

There was nothing he could do for any of them now, they were dead, in Mahal’s Halls. They wouldn’t see them for a long time, or perhaps very soon if they venture failed. If they retook the mountain he would personally see the families of Bofur and Bombur, Bofur had a wife, if Thorin remember correctly what he had been told, she was heavy with their first child. He would make sure neither wanted for anything for the rest of their life in payment of Bofur’s sacrifice. The same would go for Dori and Nori if they would let him.

“You’re thinking too much.” Bilbo said, softly padding over to him with his hairy feet. Thorin gave the hobbit a faint smile he had thought the hobbit to be asleep. “I could hear you thinking  from where I laid.” A soft uncalloused hand rested against his back. “What are you thinking so hard on?”

“The dead.” He admitted quietly. “I was thinking on how I failed everyone.”

“You carry a heavy burden, Thorin, don’t carry the weight of the dead as well.” Bilbo tapped the sword at his hip. “Get some sleep, I’ll take the watch from here.” Thorin shook his head, there would be no sleep for him tonight, even if he were to rest his head. He glanced down though at the small sword, more like a dagger really for the bigger folk in the world, there was a pale blue light emanating from it.

“What’s that?” he asked, a fear welling up inside his chest remembering what the wizard had said to Bilbo when he gave it to him, it would glow blue when orcs or goblins were around. “Get up! Everyone, get up!” The floor to the cave swung down as if on a hinge and they all went tumbling into the mountain.

Goblins! Thorin growled as they were swarmed by goblins, he swung at them with his hands trying to keep them off him and his Company, but there was just too many of them, and they had fallen into a pen like place that made it easier for the beasts to grab them. The goblins grabbed their weapons first so they couldn’t attack back and then they were pushed into a line, goblins pushing and shoving them, just for sport, just to prove they could. They had fallen straight into Goblin Town. It was a mockery of what a dwarven kingdom looked like, but just enough that Thorin’s chest ached for what he hadn’t seen in nearly a century, where dwarves built huge sweeping halls out of stone, the goblins had built narrow wooden structures. The bridges that connected the platforms looked like they would fall over at any time, but they were structurally sound enough to hold all the weight of the goblins and their dwarven captives without bending once.

They were being lead to a huge platform where the Goblin King, Thorin could hear his foul singing from the distance they were. The Goblin King was a huge thing, bigger than any of his subjects, and made up mostly of rolls of fat. It was disgusting really. But Thorin wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of looking anywhere but the Goblin King’s face. “What do you think of my song?” he asked when he was done, the song had something to do with Goblin Town, but other then that he wasn’t exactly sure.

Thorin grimaced, trying to find something to say, but it was Balin who was the first to respond. “That’s not a song, its an abomination.” he cried. Some of the other dwarves nodded in agreement.  

“Abominations, eviations, mutations, that’s all you’re going to find down here.” the Goblin King said as he sat down on his throne once more. Thorin glanced over the nine remaining members of his company, he couldn’t quite see Bilbo, but he was pretty sure the hobbit was behind Nori. The goblins dumped the weapons in front of them. “Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?” He demanded, jumping off of his throne once more. “Spies, thieves, assassins.”

“Dwarves, your malevolence.” one of the goblins said. “Found them on the front porch.” Well that explained why the cave was unoccupied, very rarely were caves unoccupied in the mountains, but the animals must have learned that goblins used that cave for trapping things. They’d been fools. But they had been weary from traveling and grief to think too hard on it.

“Search them!” the goblin king ordered. The goblins amassed upon them again, searching them for any more weapons they had on them. Tearing Oin’s hearing trumpet away and smashing it on the floor beneath them. But for all their searching, they missed two throwing daggers Thorin kept up his sleeves, and plenty of knives Fíli kept on his person. The lad was quite fond of throwing knives as well as his two swords. “So tell me, what are dwarves doing in these parts?” He moved forward, to say something even if only to try and convince the goblin they were merchants, but Oin pushed him back.

“If they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk.” The Goblin king proclaimed when none of them said anything. “Bring up the Mangler, bring up the Bone Breaker!” The goblins roared with excitement. “We’ll start with the youngest.” He pointed at Fíli. Two goblins grabbed at his nephew, though Fíli pushed one of them off the platform.

“Unhand me!” His blond nephew shouted, pulling one of his knives from inside one of his articles of clothing.

“Well, well,” the Goblin king said with a chuckle. “If its not Fíli son of Dís, Prince Under the Mountain. You will fetch a pretty price.” He turned to the other goblins. “Break him. We’ll start Azog’s job already.” Thorin felt a surge of rage as he remembered his conversation with Kíli back at Bag End where his younger nephew revealed that orcs were hunting them down.

“Stop!” Thorin ordered, pushing himself forward.

“Oakenshield!” The Goblin King hissed. “I know someone who will pay a pretty price for your head, just a head, nothing attached.” He giggled as if finding something amusing about his words. “Send word to the pale orc, tell him I’ve found both his prizes.” Fíli looked over at Thorin, he looked scared. It was the first time Thorin had seen his eldest nephew look scared, and something stirred in his chest. He could see himself in Dís room, his sister beckoning for him to come closer to the bed where she held the baby. He had glanced over to Víli who sat on the bed beside his exhausted wife, Thorin would have been there when the baby was born but he’d been called away to a council meeting at the last minute. He had held Fíli for the first time then, amazed at how tiny baby dwarves were, he could have crushed the tiny thing if he wasn’t careful. Now here was that tiny baby full grown, he had missed everything in between.

“Get down,” Thorin hissed just before a whip came down on his back.

“Uncle!” Fíli cried as another whip struck his back, it didn’t hurt as bad as it could have. Thorin wore armour under his velvet traveling jacket, but still the whip stung slightly. He glanced around for a way out, someway to get out of the goblin tunnels, but the only way to do that was to fight their way out, but they’d never reach their weapons unless there was some kind of distraction.

And then it was like a miracle, there was a blinding white light, that made everyone duck away, and then Gandalf was shouting for them to fight. Thorin didn’t hesitate to grab Orcrist, the sword Gandalf had given him in Rivendell. He also reached down to grab Fíli’s two swords, thrusting them into his nephew’s arms. “Come on, Fíli, we must fight.” Thorin urged his nephew, Fíli looked at him, slightly confused, but then nodded, taking his swords in his arms and swinging them with deadly accuracy. He could see Dwalin’s fighting style influence with both of them using dual weapons, as well as Dís light and on her toes style.

They ran on the rickety bridges, slashing, dodging, kicking, swiping, all who got in there way. They slashed at ropes to make the bridges disconnect from each other trying to hinder the goblin’s advance on them, but the goblins would climb down from the walls and ceiling of the cavern Goblin Town was built in. No matter what they did though the goblins kept coming, Gandalf even knocked down a huge rock that rolled in front of them, crushing goblins that got in their way and they still kept coming.

Then suddenly the Goblin King jumped from out of nowhere. “What are you going to do now?” He said smugly. Gandalf knocked him on the chin with his wizard staff and sliced the Goblin King’s stomach. “Well that’ll do it.” the fat lump of a creature said before Gandalf sliced his very huge chin. The part of the bridge they were on swayed under the sudden pressure of the Goblin King’s body and gave way sending them all down a chasm.

As they were helping each other up, Thorin looked for Bilbo, he hadn’t seen the Hobbit during the fighting. “Bilbo?” he asked, but the hobbit was missing. Before he could dwell on that too much Fíli began yelling about the goblins that were now pouring down the chasm they had just fallen down.

“Run!” shouted Gandalf.

~Misty Mountains~

Thorin never thought he would be so glad to see sunlight, but being in the dark tunnels of Goblin Town had reminded him just how nice the sun could be on your face. The sun was setting as they escaped the mountain, which meant they had spent all day in those mountain tunnels trying to escape from the goblins. “Eight, why am I only counting eight?” Gandalf asked.

“Eight?” Thorin asked, rounding on the group trying to figure out who was missing. “There should be nine.”

“Nine!” Gandalf said in shock, “When you left Rivendell you numbered fourteen.” Fíli let out a whimpering sound.

“We lost five last night.” Thorin said quietly. “We got caught in a stone giant battle. Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Dwalin, and Kíli did not make it.” He put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder, there would be time to grieve for their losses, but they had to make camp away further down the mountains before the goblins or worse caught up to them. He was surprised that the hobbit wasn’t right beside him fussing over him like a mother did her child, honestly Bilbo didn’t think he could take care of himself. “Bilbo! Where is Bilbo!”  The hobbit was missing. He was still back in the Goblin Tunnels, Thorin felt his chest drop. No, no, not Bilbo too, he’d just lost his best friend, his nephew, not his beloved as well. How many more people was he supposed to lose? He would not accept losing Bilbo, could not accept it.

He ran back towards the tunnel they had just came out of, he would find Bilbo, he couldn’t leave him there to die. “Bilbo!” A pair of strong arms caught him by the middle.

“No Uncle,” Fíli cried into his back. “Don’t leave me as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands readers chapter and runs and hides.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

He hadn’t meant to get separated from the dwarves, honestly he had just ducked down to try and avoid a goblin hand that had been coming for him. The goblins hadn’t even noticed really that he was there. He’d just crouched down and they’d just walked around him. He hadn’t been sure what to do as he watched the pack of goblins lead the dwarves off. He had wanted to follow, but was sure he would be seen. Then that goblin had come, and they’d fallen off the cliff together, and now here he was lying in a pile of large fungus and the goblin he’d fallen off with was being attacked by some other creature. He wished he had one of the dwarves with them, they had a sense of direction in the mountains didn’t they? He was going to be lost in the bottom of a mountain without them, he would likely wonder until he died, well wasn’t that a pleasant thought. He hoped Thorin was okay, hoped the others would survive and get away from the goblins. It would be devastating for them to have come so far and be stopped here, stopped by goblins who didn’t even notice when one of their captives escaped. They’d lost so much already, to not make it to Erebor alive in and in tact, at least Thorin or Fíli not making it back to Erebor, would be an insult to the memory of those they had lost. He’d never lost someone before so violently, his father had been ill when he died, he slowly faded away. But the deaths last night had been violent, they had been alive and then they had not been. And they’d been so young too, Kíli and Ori weren’t even of age yet, they were still children in the eyes of dwarfish law, and Bofur’s wife was expecting a baby, the miner and sometimes toymaker had talked for sometime around a campfire one night about his wife Lorti, Bilbo thought her name might have been. He’d been so excited for a child, a blessing from Mahal, he had declared it. Since Frerin had come to power there had been less and less dwarflings born, something the dwarves of Erebor blamed their king for. They claimed Mahal was punishing them for Frerin’s gold sickness or something like that. Bofur had taken the sign of his wife’s pregnancy as a sign of Mahal’s approval of overthrowing Frerin. It sounded a bit absurd to Bilbo to be quite honest, he didn’t really think the Valar cared all that much about what was going on over here in Middle Earth, as they had isolated themselves from the comings and goings of Middle Earth.

If they cared would they have let children die so violently?

Bilbo went still as he heard the sound of the goblin fighting back against the creature who had been trying to drag it away. The strange creature bashed it upside of its head with what looked to be a rock, but in the fray something fell from the creature’s waist. He couldn’t really tell what it was from where he lay, and he was surprised he even noticed the token dropping, he was so frightened of the creature. But it left, dragging it’s goblin prize with it, and Bilbo finally felt safe to emerge from his hiding spot in the mushrooms. If he and the goblin had been in each other’s location, it was likely then that he would have been the one to be carried off, not the goblin. He grimaced at the unpleasant thought, he was lost down here yes, but at least he wasn’t about to become some strange mountain creature’s lunch. Something gold caught his eye as he sheathed his sword (which had been glowing blue underneath a mushroom the whole time), the trinket that the strange creature had dropped, he could see now that it was a ring. A rather plain ring, no stones on it, no adornments, just a plain gold ring. He didn’t even think about it, he just picked it up and put it in his pocket, later on he would come to regret ever laying eyes on the golden trinket.

He pulled his sword back out as he heard the creature moans coming from down the tunnel he had just left through. Or Bilbo supposed he was a he. Did creatures that look like that really have a gender? Then he heard another voice, telling the first voice to be quiet. Was there two creatures then? The thought frightened Bilbo again, as he had rather hoped that he could convince the first creature to help him find his way out, maybe.

The tunnel led out into a wide cavern in the bottom of the mountain with a lake in the middle of it. It was a rather odd thing to find within a mountain, a lake? Bilbo wondered where the water came from, was there an exit nearby that the water came in from. It didn’t take him very long to realize though that the creature sat on an island in the middle of the lake, singing som strange song, beating the goblin over the head with a rock. He ducked behind a large boulder as the goblin attacked the creature again, goblins had stronger head then Bilbo thought, they were like dwarves in that aspect. Thorin had explained to him once, that dwarves often pressed their foreheads together to show affection, even sometimes smashing them together as a greeting between family members and close friends. It sounded rather brutal, and he told Thorin that at the time, but his dwarf had informed him, laughing slightly, that dwarves had a much thicker skulls then hobbits did. It protected them from cave-ins while mining, though there were times that not even thick skulls could protect dwarves from the mines brutality. He watched though, as the creature’s attack to the goblin’s head dimmed his glowing blue sword, realizing that the goblin was dying. More death. He’d had his fill of death though, other races accused hobbits of being soft, and Bilbo agreed with them, hobbits were soft, but there was nothing wrong with that. The light went out, the goblin was dead. But he couldn’t regret the goblin’s death no matter how hard he tried, it was the goblin’s fault that he was separated from the Company, from Thorin, he had no idea what their status was, and now he was lost.

He peeked out from behind the boulder to the rock the creature had been beating the goblin’s head in at, but there was nothing there. The creature had disappeared. And that frightened him something dreadful. Where was it? Did it know he was here? He gripped his sword a little tighter, looking around the cavern, but he could hardly see anything in the darkness. Then he heard it, the laborious breath of the creature, he looked up to see two eyes looming over him in the dark, and then it jumped down.

“Bless us and splashes, precious, that’s a meaty mouthful.” It said, before getting down to walk towards him. It didn’t get very far as Bilbo raised his sword to prevent it from getting any closer to him. He wasn’t going to let some strange creature eat him for lunch or was it dinner time? It was awfully hard to know what time of day it was down here in the dark under a mountain. It made a strange sound as Bilbo’s sword touched it, almost like a word, gollum, gollum.

“Back. Stay back.” He warned standing up, the creature took a few steps back not wanting to get any closer to his blade. “I’m warning you, don’t get any closer.” Bilbo said, his voice trembling slightly. He hoped the creature didn’t notice though. He didn’t think it did, it seemed rather afraid of his blade.

It started muttering about the blade, how it was an elvish blade, but Bilbo was not an elf. Then it began talking about a precious again. Was that what it called itself? Precious? Or was it talking to someone or something else? The creature moved around as he spoke, as if trying to access Bilbo. “What is it precious, what is it?”

“My name is Bilbo Baggins.” Bilbo said finally, his nerves getting the better of him.

“Bagginses,” the creature asked cocking his head to the side slightly as if he would work out his question by looking at Bilbo from another angle. “What is a Bagginses, precious?”

“I’m a hobbit of the Shire.”

“Oh, we likes goblinses,bates, and fishes, but wes hasn’t tried hobbites before.” The creatures said with some excitement. It really did mean to eat him then? This was the second creature that he had met on his journey to Erebor that wanted to eat him? Was that all anyone did outside the Shire, eat other creatures they had never seen before? Such barbarity. “Is it soft?” the voice suddenly changed from excitement to a bit menacing. “Is it juicy.” The creature was crawling towards him again. Bilbo began to wave his sword around.

“Keep your distance.” He said, “I’ll use this if I have to.” He swung the thing a few more times for emphasis. The creature made a screeching like sound as he did so. “I don’t want any trouble.” He really didn’t, if the creature didn’t attack him then he wouldn’t attack the creature, he just wanted to know how to get out of this mountain, he wanted to go back to Thorin, back to the Shire, there was nothing like this in the Shire. And he had plenty of stories to go back and tell his mother, she would love some of them. The story of the trolls though he might have to change slightly so she didn’t worry too much. “Do you understand? Just show me the way out of here and I’ll be on my way.” He promised.

“ Why? Is it lost? Is Bagginses lost?”

“Yes, yes.” Bilbo said, he was lost, starting to get hungry, and feared for his life as well as of those of his companions, his remaining companions. “And I would like to be unlost as soon as possible.”

“Ooo, we knowes the way out.” The creature began to jump up and down excitedly, very different from threatening to the way he had menacingly been stalking him just a moment before. “We knowes safe path for hobbites. Safe paths in the dark.” It pointed out towards the lake. “Shut-up!” It said suddenly, Bilbo took a step back. Well that was quite unexpected.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Then the creature ducked down behind the rock and Bilbo heard the much kinder voice. “Well, yes we were precious, we were.” Bilbo blinked, what in Arda’s name was going on here? Did this creature have some sort of ailment that caused him to have two voices? Two very distinct personalities? Manic and Menacing. Bilbo decided then and there he liked Manic over Menacing. Or was this all some kind of joke, an elaborate prank that the Valar were pulling on him or something.

“I don’t know what your game is but I-”

“Games!” Manic shouted and the began to babble on about how much it loved games excitedly. “Does it- does it like to play?”

“Maybe.” Was all Bilbo said before the creature began to tell him a riddle. It was an archaic riddle, but a favorite of his uncle’s so he had heard it before, and it was fitting seeing as they were in a mountain. The creature was quite amused at how fast he was able to guess the riddle, but then again perhaps the creature had not realized that riddles was a favorite game of his mothers and most of her siblings and whenever Bilbo (and Thorin) would go visit Tooksborough they would end up playing riddles for hours with Bilbo’s Tookish relations.

“Oh lets have another.” the creature said quite happily. “Yes, do it again, do it again. Ask us.” Then quite suddenly Menacing took over and barked out his displeasure at Manic’s attempt at a game of riddles. He walked away on all fours, muttering how they should finish him. He needed to keep the game of riddles going, if only to bide time for Thorin to find him, if Thorin could ever find him in this unfamiliar darkness of the mountain.

“No, no, I want to play. I do, I can see you’re very good at this. Why don’t we have a game of riddles. Just you and me.” Hopefully that would appease Manic enough that he would come back and Bilbo wouldn’t have to deal with Menacing the whole time who was more liable to eat him rather than play a game of riddles.

“Yes,” Manic agreed, “Just us.”

“If I win, you have to show me the way out.” The creature must know the way out, he probably wanted to see sunlight or something every once in a while. It must get pretty boring sitting on a lake all day waiting for goblins or something to fall down so it could eat it.

“Yes, yes.” Manic agreed quite readily turning away from Bilbo. “But if it loses, precious, if it loses.” Menacing was about to come out again, but then Bilbo heard Manic’s cheerful voice. “Then we eats it.” The creature turned back to him. “If Bagginses loses we eats it whole.” Bilbo stared at the creature, it even Manic wanted to eat him. Well he was something unusual, Bilbo couldn’t deny the creature that. And it was an equal opportunity, he wanted something the creature wanted something, and if he did lose he could just pull out his sword and do something with it.

“Fair enough.” He agreed, he sheathed his sword, and gave his first riddle to the creature.

He was quite amazed at how good the creature was at riddles, perhaps there had once been more creatures like this one and they would play riddles together at the lake in the mountain. Eggs was the answer to Bilbo’s first riddle, and the creature asked his question, to which Bilbo answered correctly. Then Bilbo asked his mother’s favorite riddle which was about teeth. At this point Menacing came out, and informed him that they only had nine teeth. Their next riddle was hard, he almost didn’t have the right answer and Menacing realized that as he kept dodging in and out of the shadows being well menacing. The answer had been time, something he had only realized once the creature had told him that it was times up. He had narrowly dodged being eaten.

“Last question.” Menacing said from on top of the rock where it was perched, and had nearly grabbed Bilbo’s neck too while he was trying to come up to that answer to the last riddle. Bilbo turned away to face the water of the lake, he was suddenly feeling the pressure, if the creature guessed this one right he could quite possibly be eaten, Menacing becoming impatient. “Last chance. Ask us.” Bilbo put a hand in his pocket while he tried to think of a riddle to give to the creature that he wouldn’t guess. Where was Thorin when he needed him?

There was something in his pocket, “What have I got in my pocket?” he was asking the question more to himself as he tried to figure out what was in there.

“That’s no fair.” The creature protested. “That’s not fair, its against the rules.” It threw down a rock it had picked up. Well then, if it was going to pick up rocks to bash him over the head with before he’d officially lost the game then he was going to keep that question as his riddle.

“You said ask me a question. Well that is my question. What have I got in my pockets?”

“Three guesses, you must give us three guesses.” The creature demanded, while holding up two fingers.

Bilbo conceded to the creatures’ demand, it wasn't likely the creature would guess that he had picked up the creature’s ring in the passageway. “Handes.” was the creature’s first guess, not a bad one as a minute ago Bilbo had had his hand in his pockets trying to figure out what was in it hence the question.

“Wrong.” The creature began to become desperate, but at least it was Manic he was dealing with not Menacing, Manic just began to mutter himself of all the items on the cave ground.

“Knife!” It shouted out only to realize that he was holding his sword in his hand and looked disappointed. “Oh shut up.” Menacing growled at Manic.

“Wrong again.” He was beginning to be able to breathe again, perhaps he was going to make it out of the cavern alive, he would be able to see Thorin again. “Last guess.”

“String!” Manic shouted with Menacing following up with “Or nothing.”

“Nuh-ha, two guesses at once.” Bilbo said in a sing-song like manner realizing he’d won. “Both wrong.” The creature fell over on his side in a very melodramatic manner. “Come then, I won the game, you promised to show me the way out.” He wanted to get out of this mountain now, he’d come too close to being eaten once again, at least this time he’d gotten out thanks to his own quick wit and not to the help of Thorin or any of the others. Not that he didn’t mind Thorin helping him, but he didn’t want to appear to be a burden either.

“Did we?” Menacing asked still laying on his side from where he fell over. “Did we say so precious?” Menacing got up and turned around to look at him. “What has it got in its nasty little pocketeses?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Bilbo said raising his sword up. The creature had no intentions of showing him the way out. But he wasn’t going to just allow it to eat him either. “You lost.”

“Lost? Lost?” the creature advanced towards him with his strange crawl and Bilbo kept backing up trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. The creature reached for its side where the ring had fallen from thinking it was still there, and began to look worried when it realized that it was no longer there. It began to run about, throwing things here and splashing in the water, looking for the ring. Bilbo took it out from his pocket to hold, hoping that the creature wouldn’t realize that he had or maybe if it did he could barter his way out with it.

“What have you lost?” He felt quite guilty at having the ring, the creature did look rather upset about not being able to find it.

“Mustn’t ask us, not any of its business.” Manic said in despair. The creature stared at itself in the water for a few moments while Bilbo decided whether or not to barter the ring for his way out of the mountain, the creature seemed quite attached to it. But he wasn't’ sure he could trust the creature not to kill him once his back was turned.

“What has it got in its nasty little pocketes?” Menacing asked turning to look at him with realization. “Its stoles it. It stoles it.” Bilbo decided it was time to run when the rock went flying at him once more.

~Misty Mountains~

Don’t leave me as well, Fíli’s plea haunted Thorin reminding him of what his nephew had lost in only the past day. He knew as the rest of them surely knew, that if he went back in that mountain he would surely die leaving the crown to his nephew. Fíli couldn’t take the crown, not yet, he was old enough yes, there had certainly been kings that had been younger than his nephew, but his nephew had just lost his whole support system, and it would take years for the blond dwarf to recover. He had told Bilbo that dwarves were like stones, once something was hewn into them, it took years for that to erode away, Ori and Kíli hadn’t just been hewn into Fíli but were carved in, shaping Fíli into the dwarf he was today. The pains he felt would be something he felt for the rest of his life, just as Thorin would never recover from Bilbo’s loss. He should never have allowed Bilbo to come, should have made him stay at home in Bag End where he would have been safe. He’d lost Bilbo nearly once already with the incident with the trolls, and now feared he had lost him again, this time for good.

“Thorin, you better not have been thinking of doing anything stupid.” Thorin blinked and gasped at the same time. Where on Arda had Bilbo learned how to just appear like that? His hobbit had just appeared out of thin air, a few more scrapes on him then when last Thorin had seen him, and his jacket was in shambles, buttons were missing from it, that was Belladonna’s favorite jacket of Bilbo’s too.

“Bilbo.” Thorin said pulling his hobbit close to his chest. He would never let him go, never again. Everytime he let the hobbit out of his sight he wandered off and Thorin feared that he would never see him again.

“I’m okay.” Bilbo whispered against his chest. “Its alright, I’m right here.” Thorin hadn’t realized he’d started crying till he felt the warmth on his cheeks as Bilbo kissed them away.

“I thought I’d lost you.” he whispered quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now.” The hobbit always knew what to say to quiet the feelings that built up in his chest. To make the rage and pain that he often felt from his many life experiences disappear. Thorin pulled Bilbo away a little bit, but only so he could kiss the hobbit on the lips. It was only when Balin began to cough that Thorin fully pulled away from his hobbit.  
“We need to get going.” Fíli said, he hadn’t moved from where he had been standing behind Thorin. His blond nephew spoke quietly, and there was a certain raspiness to his voice of tears that he was likely holding back. If Bilbo could come out of the mountain safe and alive, why couldn’t Kíli and Ori as well? It hurt to think that his happiness caused the others pain, he shouldn’t have kissed Bilbo in front of the others, not when they were all suffering loss, he had just been so relieved to see him again.

“It’s almost night, and I do not think any one of us could bear another night in these accursed mountains.” Thorin said quietly to Bilbo. The hobbit nodded as they walked back towards the remaining members of the Company.

“Gandalf, you’re back.” Bilbo said with a contemptive look.

“I am.” The wizard said somberly.

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something back to the wizard only to beuc toff by a warg’s howl. “Azog.” Thorin hissed, “We need to go , now!”  But as they soon found out ,there was nowhere to run. They were on the edge of a cliff.

“The trees, climb the trees!” Gandalf shouted. They were surrounded by pine trees on all sides, Thorin watched as Oin and Gloin climbed up one, and then Balin helped Dori up, while Nori climbed up one just beside them.  

“Bilbo.” Thorin called out as a warg came towards his beloved hobbit,  Bilbo swung his small sword, putting it straight through the warg’s head before Nori bent down and helped  him . They were all in trees now besides him and, Thorin looked around for his nephew.  “Fíli!” He  shouted. Catching sight of blond hair  fighting  two  of the wargs  near  a tree  a little  behind where everyone else had climbed up the trees.  

“Oakensheild!” he heard a deep voice growl at him, and turned to see the pale orc he had once faced down in the plains of Rohan  riding  towards him  atop a white  warg.   He hadn’t see the orc that had killed Beorn in  almost  two decades,  but he never forgot a face like that one, and he couldn’t forget how he’d chopped off the  orc’s arm just after he’d stabbed Beorn.

“Azog!” He growled back, glancing over to Fíli  who  had taken down  the two wargs and was battling against an orc.  The pale orc smirked as he glanced over  at the blond prince. The orc said something in his foul language before  leading his warg towards  Fíli.  His nephew was a great warrior in his own right, but he couldn’t take Azog himself.  “Fíli!” He  shouted his warning.

“Thorin!” He heard Bilbo shout from behind  him.  But he ignored Bilbo’s pleading, he was the Oakensheild, and it was his  duty to protect people.  And he wasn’t going to let anyone else down, he’d let down Beorn, and Dwalin, and Bofur and Bombur, Ori and Kíli. No one else, no one else was going to die for him.  He swung Orcrist at the warg’s head, missing by a fraction, the warg had turned his head at just the right time and missed his swing. He was distracted momentarily as the fire began to rain down on them, the weather of the world suddenly turning strange.  But that momentary distraction was all the warg needed to grasp him by the middle as if he was a  chew toy to play with, and then was flung off to the side.  The breath was knocked out of him, but he watched in horror was Fíli faced down Azog  and the warg by himself while the fire burned around them.

His nephew fought bravely, like he always did.  There was a hint of desperation to  his swings, he was out of his league. Thorin tried to move to jump up and defend his sister’s son, before she skinned him alive for killing both her sons.  Dís would never forgive him for Kíli’s death and would likely kill him if Fíli was to die as well.  But his legs felt like stone, the exhaustion of the past day catching up to him,  and they refused to move.  His whole body felt heavy, and he watched with horror as Fíli tripped over his own feet  falling to the ground. A nearby warg bounded over and jumped on top of him, making his nephew unable to escape, while Azog barked out more orders in orcish.  He could hear the  other members of the Company shouting from their trees, the wargs baking at them from the base, preventing them from coming down and protecting the two remaining members of the Line of Durin who weren’t in the thralls of goldsickness or not eligible for the  throne  as was Dís’s  case.

An orc appeared above him, a huge meat cleaver type weapon in his hands that loomed precariously over Thorin’s neck. His vision was beginning to  fade from his wounds, that warg must have bitten into him harder than he had originally thought. And then he heard a battle cry, not a dwarven one like he was used to  or even the one of a man, the orc was pushed to the ground by the full force of a hobbit who had jumped down from a tree, his sword already in the orc’s chest. Bilbo, Bilbo had saved him,  Thorin smiled to himself at the thought just before his vision faded.

~Carrock~

He had already made up his  mind, when Thorin awoke, he was going to kill him. How dare he do that? Fighting the orcs by himself,  not get up when he fell, he almost got beheaded by an orc for Valar’s sake. Bilbo wasn’t sure how much more his poor nerves could take of this. Thank Yavanna for Gandalf and his eagle friends who had come soon after Bilbo had leapt down from the tree and had taken them away from the mountains and the orcs.  It was a large rock like structure in the middle of a valley at the base of the Misty Mountains and far away from the orcs who had attacked them, or what was left of the orcs, the eagles had done  quite the number on them.  Bilbo watched a bit away from the Company as Gandalf bent over his dwarf muttering something under his breath, probably the same thing Bilbo was, the stupidity and stubbornness of dwarves. He knew dwarves were stubborn, he’d lived with Thorin for too long not to know they were stubborn, and loyal to a fault but it still made him want to throttle Thorin for his actions up there on that  cliff. He could have died. He could have died, and then what there wouldn’t be any reason for him to go to Erebor, and no way he was going to cross back over those mountains by himself.  He would have been stuck with no where to go.  

He heard rather than saw Thorin open his eyes,  the gasps of the other members of the Company, Fíli’s pacing slowing down.  Gloin bent down  and helped Thorin up who looked straight at Bilbo and where he sat on a rock  across from him.  “You could have died.” Thorin said simply, walking towards him.

“You were going to if I hadn’t intervened.” Bilbo said  unabashed, he wasn’t going to apologize about putting his life in danger if Thorin wouldn’t apologize. “I have done, and will do many things for you Thorin, but watching you die is not one of them.” Thorin sighed and nodded. He gave Bilbo a quick peck on the lips and whispered a his gratitude  for saving his life before turning to look at Fíli.

“What were you doing fighting wargs and orcs like that?” Thorin growled, Bilbo gaped in shock, he thought Thorin would have been more angry at him for leaping in front of him without hardly any training, at least Fíli was a trained and experience warrior, Bilbo had killed for the first time last night. He didn’t feel sorry for taking that orc’s life either, though part of him wished he would be, but that orc was going to behead Thorin and Bilbo couldn’t forgive it for that.

“I-” Fíli said, he had stopped pacing. “I don’t have to answer myself to you.” Fíli said unexpectedly. He had always been respectful towards Thorin. “I am a trained warrior, I knew what I was doing.”

“You weren’t fighting like a trained warrior.” Thorin growled back, walking slowly towards his nephew. Bilbo almost jumped up to intervene, but he knew that there was no way Thorin would hurt Fíli. “You fought like someone who wanted to die rather than live. Don’t ever let your grief consume you in battle.” Then he reached out and hugged Fíli. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, you and your mother are all the family I have left.” Then Thorin let him go and looked at something in the distance, a mountain all by itself across the vast forest that lay below them to a degree.

“Erebor.” Bilbo whispered, he looked over at Thorin, at the longing on his face. He hadn’t seen that mountain in seventy years.

“Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things first, thank you to everyone who left Kudos and Reponses to Chapter Nine, secondly I updated chapters 1-8 with some basic editing and stuff, but I also cleared up a few things, like Vili and Thorin's relationship which I thought needed some further expanding on, and also where Thorin got the name Oakenshield from, for those who don't feel like going back and re-reading my edits, the people of Rohan gave Thorin the name Oakenshield, as he was a shield for their people against the orcs and was as strong as an oak tree. Azog only knows that name, therefore he refers to Thorin as Oakenshield. Any other questions, comments or concerns feel free to ask. Thank you for reading Chapter Ten, it would have been out sooner but school as well as a few other distractions got in the way.


	11. Chapter Eleven

He kept looking back to the mountains, they were always there, a looming reminder of what he’d, they’d lost. Lost somewhere in those mountains there were the bodies of his brother and his beloved, buried amongst the rubble of a stone giant. But he kept looking back expecting to see both of them running up behind them from over the next hill. Following him as always. The lead brick in his chest hadn’t disappeared since that rainy night, it weighed down on him at every moment. He could still see the looks on their faces, they had been scared, terrified, he wasn’t sure there were words to describe the expressions on their faces when they realized they were going to die. His gut had felt like someone had punched it as he watched them fall to their deaths, no worse than that, the wind had been knocked out of him and he had wanted to scream. Scream their names, scream to the Valar to return them to him. Just give them back, he would do anything, if they would just give them back. He no longer felt whole. His brother whom he could not remember not being there was gone, Ori, his One, his most precious of treasures, was gone as well. Thorin had rebuked him for fighting the orcs as if he wanted to die, but wouldn’t Thorin have wanted to die too if he’d lost Bilbo. He’d almost run back into the goblin tunnels searching for him, leaving him behind to do what, be king?

Fíli wanted to hate him, Thorin still had everything, a mountain to rule, a hobbit to love, both his siblings were still alive, even if Frerin was mad. But he couldn’t, he loved Thorin, at first he hadn’t been so sure about his exiled uncle. He had seemed strange, foreign, years spent away from dwarves had changed him. But Thorin was everything his mother had promised he would be, he was kind a bit aloof, and sometimes had a hard time showing what he truely felt. But Fíli could tell that Thorin had always loved him, loved Kíli despite not knowing about him till they’d walked through the door to the hobbit’s house. Thorin was meant to be king, he radiated an ability to lead others in a way Fíli could only dream of.

He was resting from his wounds now, Gandalf had shown them to the house of a shifter named Beorn who had offered them shelter and a place to heal. It was a beautiful place, the lands were fertile and there were many animals who lived here under the shifters’ protection. Ori would have loved it, she would have enjoyed the peace and quietness of Beorn’s home, the ability to finally get to write some more of their journey. Kíli would have been bored out of his mind though, he always hated waiting. One of these trees would be full of arrow holes from his younger brother’s boredom. That or he would be begging Fíli to spar with him, and he would have obliged his younger brother, probably, because then he would have an excuse to take his shirt off and watch Ori furiously blush behind her journal. These were memories he would never have, memories that had been taken from him by their deaths. Every single memory of Kíli and Ori seemed a thousand times more precious than they had been, and he hoarded every single one of them. Kíli’s exuberance the first time he made a bullseye after weeks of practicing, he never stopped once he started, it didn’t take him long to become the best shot in Erebor. Archery had always been his brother’s one connection to their father. Ori’s brilliant smile at Bofur and Lorti’s wedding, he hadn’t been able to stay long because of his duties to his uncle, but he could remember her happiness at watching family friends get married. These memories were all he had left of them.

Fíli lightly touched his left mustache braid where Ori’s courting bead that she had crafted for him was braided in, rubies and sapphires were inset in it for both their houses, where she got the gems he had never asked. In his right mustache braid was the bead Kíli had made for him to mark him as a brother. These beads as well as the numerous knives his brother made, and the drawings Ori had done for him were the physical reminders for him that they had been alive, they had existed. They were more precious than silver and gold to him.

He swung off the branch of the tree he had been sitting on, he had been avoiding most of the remaining members of the Company. They had all lost someone that night, he wasn’t the only one to lose their One, Nori had too, but he didn’t want to focus on everyone else’s pain when he couldn’t deal with his own. Dori still refused to look at him, solely placing the blame of Ori’s death on him. Balin had reminded him that neither Kíli nor Ori would want to see him in the Halls before it was his time, they would rather see him later knowing he had a full life than sooner. Thorin hadn’t spoken much to him since they were on top of Carrock, but he was healing from his injuries from Azog as well as the goblins taking the whips for him. Slowly he made his way back into Beorn’s house, he didn’t want to see the mountains anymore. He didn’t want to keep glancing back to wonder if they would show up a little worse for wear but alive, he couldn’t handle anymore false hopes.

“Thorin?” He asked, knocking on the door of the room his uncle was staying in while he healed, he hoped he wasn’t disturbing his uncle’s sleep.

“Come in, Fíli.” He heard his uncle’s baritone voice ring through the wood. Thorin lay with his stomach on the bed, bandages surrounding his chest, propped up by a pillow so that he could look at the other people in the room. Oin said he would only need a few more days of bedrest before he would be able to get up and move around again. Bilbo was in the room as well, sitting in a chair by his uncle’s bed reading one of Beorn’s books. The hobbit shut the book as he walked in, but didn’t move to get up from his seat.

“How do you feel?” Fíli asked, sitting down on the bed beside his uncle. Thorin let out a growl of annoyance.

“I’d feel better if Oin would let me walk around some.” Bilbo clucked his tongue in amusement, Thorin glared at him half-heartedly, and Fíli gave them a smile of amusement. It would seem that the ancient healer wasn’t the only one who believed he needed to stay in bed.

“You’ve already tried to get up once today, look how that went.” Bilbo said, Thorin let out another growl and then huffed. “He’s a big baby when he’s injured. Reminds me of that time you dropped the hot anvil on your foot and it nearly went clean through.”

“Thank goodness I was wearing my boots.” Thorin said sardonically, Bilbo rolled his eyes. Fíli felt he was missing something, an age old argument between the two probably.

“He was bound to the bed for a week.” Bilbo continued ignoring Thorin’s interruption. “Worst week of my life. Complaining, shouting for me every five minutes because he was bored, its a good thing you dwarves are a hardy folk and don’t get sick often, because your uncle may not have lived through his first illness.” Thorin grinned unabashedly. Fíli wondered if this would have been what he and Ori would have been like when they were older, though Bilbo wasn’t that old hobbit wise, he was only around forty years old.

“Kíli’s the same way, he hates being confined to the bed. He used to drive Mother and Oin nuts whenever he would have a cold as a child.” Fíli said, then glanced down at his lap. “Was the same way.” He whispered, correcting himself. He missed the glance between Bilbo and Thorin while staring down.

“I have a request to make of you, Fíli.” Thorin said kindly. “Bilbo needs someone to help him with his sword work. I’m sure you saw him up there on the cliff flailing his little sword about.” It was Bilbo’s turn to huff this time.

“I didn’t flail it.” Bilbo muttered.

“Could you teach him some of the basics so the next time we’re in a battle he doesn’t almost take his head off.” Thorin said, his voice was mockingly sweet more aimed at Bilbo than Fíli. He had never taught anyone before, and Bilbo had almost done more damage to himself than he had to the other orcs up on that cliff from what he had been able to see. It would give him something to do. Another ulterior motive of Thorin’s no doubt, but he couldn’t fault his uncle for caring. And this way maybe he could get to know his uncle’s hobbit a little bit better. Kíli and Ori had gotten to know Bilbo much more than he had.

“Yes.” He agreed. “We can start this evening.” He said to the hobbit, it was a bit too warm in the late August sun to be practicing in the afternoon. Bilbo nodded, opening up his book again as Oin stepped in the room.

“How’s the pain your majesty?” the healer asked.

“Bearable.” Thorin replied.

“I’m going to give you more tonic then. You could have been skewered by a wild boar and still tell me the pain was bearable.” Oin said.

“I did tell you that when I was skewered by a wild boar.” Thorin said. Bilbo looked over his book at Thorin and shook his head.

“What you and Víli wer’ thinkin’ going after that by yourselves.” Oin shook his head as he pulled out a vial from a nearby table. Beorn had allowed Oin free access to his herb garden so the doctor could make more medicines for them, it was quite nice of the skin changer to do so. Fíli wanted to ask his uncle more about his father, but found that Oin’s pain medication quite quickly made one drowsy and Thorin was no longer in any position to tell him anything more about Víli.

“Com’ on laddie, lets let you uncl’ rest.” Oin said shooing Fíli from Thorin’s room.

~Beorn’s House~

Bilbo felt sore, his legs ached and most certainly his arms ached, he wanted to go lie down and sleep the rest of the day away before Fíli had him do more stance work with his sword again. Thorin’s nephew was good at what he did, there was no doubt about that and he was a good teacher if slightly impatient at times. And Bilbo knew that his training was a way of distracting Fíli’s losses. Still he wished that it wasn’t him that had to be sore, and why did Thorin have to call a blast meeting right after his morning practices? He said it was about something important, and had asked Bilbo, Oin, and Balin to his room in the late morning. He had no clue what Thorin wanted to talk about, whatever was on the dwarf’s mind he hadn’t yet share it with him. He would express his displeasure later.

Thorin was sitting in a chair around the table when Bilbo finally made his way up to his room. Balin sat across from him, and Oin to Thorin’s left leaving Bilbo the chair to the right. Thorin took a deep breath as Bilbo sat down. “I am concerned about Fíli.” He said without any preamble. Bilbo scrunched up his face in confusion, he’d just seen Fíli at practice, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary about him. Why was Thorin holding a meeting about his concerns about his nephew and not just talk to him.

“He’s missing his brother and Ori, give him some time.” Bilbo said. “Grief passes.”

“Its not his grief that concerns me.” Thorin said shaking his head. “He’s falling to goldsickness.”

“You’ve noticed it too then.” Oin said sadly. “He’s been displaying signs since before we left Erebor.” What signs? Fíli seemed like a mild mannered young dwarf with sometimes too many responsibilities placed on him. He was kind and he’d never heard a rude thing out of the young dwarf’s mouth besides his word on the Carrock. He was patient with Bilbo during training, and acted nothing at all like the way everyone described Frerin.

“I didn’t notice till everything with Ori started.” Thorin admitted, his fists were clenched. “Its only the beginning stages, but we must keep a careful watch over him. We can’t let him descend into the madness.” Bilbo reached out to touch Thorin’s hand to reassure him. “I didn’t notice it in Frerin and look what happened.”

“I don’t understand.” Bilbo admitted. “What signs is he displaying? There hasn’t been any gold for him to fall for.”

“Goldsickness is a misnomer.” Balin said, “Though many dwarves have fallen pray to hoarding gold. Thrór hoarded gold, while Frerin hoards-”

“Knowledge.” Thorin whispered, “He hoards knowledge doesn’t he?” Balin nodded sadly. “He was always in the library as he got older, would snap at everyone who disturbed him even Dís and myself at times. I had only ever seen it in Grandfather, I wasn’t aware that it could be anything but gold.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Thorin.” Balin said. “You were young, and your grandfather was your main priority, Frerin was never supposed to have the throne.”

“So Frerin hoards knowledge?” Bilbo said for clarification.

“Aye, he has one of the best spy networks in all of Middle Earth.” Oin said

“And Thorin’s grandfather hoarded gold?” The dwarves nodded. “And what does Fíli hoard?” He almost didn’t want to know, he loved the young dwarf dearly, and felt for his pain of losing his family.

“The thing that he holds most precious.” Balin said.

“Loved ones.” Thorin said, “I would hoard the same thing if I let myself fall to its thralls.” Bilbo almost gasped, he’d never thought of Thorin falling to the madness that had been behind his banishment. He wasn’t aware he could, but it sounded like Thorin had almost fallen to it before.

“Kíli and Ori.”

“And myself.” Thorin said quietly. “And probably Dís, and maybe even you, Bilbo. Its hard to know with him in such an early stage.”

“I don’t understand, if its an early stage how could you tell?”

“He was very possessive of Ori before we left.” Oin said.

“And after he found out Loni was Ori while you were hurt, he said some really awful things to her.” Thorin admitted. He looked to Oin. “Is there anyway we could help him before it turns into a full blown madness?” Oin looked down at the table and shook his head.

“I know nothin’ other than what Master Elrond said.”

“Perhaps it is for the best that Kíli and Ori will never see what he will become.” Thorin said quietly to Bilbo’s horror.

“That’s it then?” He demanded slamming his hand down on the table and looking at the dwarves sitting around it. “You’re just going to give up on him. We have a cure, a way to stop the madness. You’re acting like he will end up doing awful things. He’s a boy, barely of age and he’s lost so much already.”

“I’m thinking about the future, Bilbo, Erebor’s future.”

“Well try thinking about him as well next time.” Bilbo snapped standing up and walking out of the room.

He found Fíli sitting in the maple tree looking back at the mountains once more. With a small sigh he picked up an acorn from one of the surrounding oak trees and threw it toward Fíli, hitting his shoulder. The blond dwarf whirled around to face him, glaring slightly as he rubbed his shoulder and jumped down. “What?” Fíli asked.

“In the Shire we have a tradition to plant trees for ones that we love who have passed on. Its a way of remembering them, to watch and take care of something while thinking on those who are no longer with us. I talked to Beorn a few days ago if we could take a few seeds from his trees back with us to Erebor. I thought it would be something you would like to do.” Bilbo admitted. His mother had planted a sycamore tree for his father when he died, it was still a young thing, but it hadn’t even been ten years since his father’s death. That was another thing the trees could do, mark a passage of time as they grew. It was amazing how much it had hurt planting that tree behind Bag End soon after his father’s passing and how it no longer hurt to look on it now.

Fíli smiled at him, picking up an acorn and looking at it in between his thumb and forefinger. “That sounds very hobbitish. Planting something to remember someone, usually we carve statues in their likeness if they’re important, and if they’re not maybe a ring or something to remember a loved one by. Those things aren’t alive, but a tree is, its a reminder that their spirit lives on within us.” Bilbo nodded.

“How very perceptive of you. I’d never thought of it that way before.” Bilbo admitted, he always had just assumed they planted a tree because hobbits planted things. The sycamore tree in the back yard suddenly meant so much more to him, a living reminder of his father’s spirit.

“I think an oak tree would remind me of my mother or Uncle Thorin, but not of Kíli or Ori.”

“There are other trees in the area that’ll begin dropping their seeds soon, and if you don’t find anything here at Bard’s house, I’m sure we can have find some other source.”

“Thank you, Bilbo.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw Thorin standing just outside of Beorn’s door, just because he was allowed to leave his room and move around the cottage didn’t mean that he should be coming outside yet. It would be another week before they could leave because of Thorin’s injuries, and there was no way that Bilbo was going to let him aggravate them anymore. “You shouldn’t be out here yet.” He chided, walking back to the cottage to give Fíli some time to himself, he heard the dwarf’s sniggers as he marched towards his uncle, but Bilbo elected to ignore them. Thorin stood up straighter, looking unabashed that he had been caught outside where he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Looking for you.” Thorin said with his low baritone voice. “I wanted to apologize for what I said. I care for Erebor, and I want what is best for her and her people, they have suffered long enough under the rule of those mad with goldsickness. I would not put them through that again, not even for one I love dearly like Fíli.”

“I think that by helping him, we will help Erebor. One day, in the distant future you will die, Thorin, and I think Fíli given the chance will be a great king. He is kind and patient, and has a good heart. I know you think that no one under the thralls of goldsickness would humble themselves to the Valar and to Eru above, but I won’t think like that. I believe there is hope for your brother and for Fíli.”

~Beorn’s House~

They would be leaving Beorn’s house tomorrow, Thorin would be glad to put it behind them, he liked the skin changer who had played host to them these past three weeks but he was anxious and eager to reach Erebor. They were so close now. Mirkwood was a week’s ride away, and Beorn was kind enough to loan them ponies that would take them all the way to the edge of the forest, but the giant of a man didn’t want them to go inside, and Thorin would rather not test the man’s temper. The trip across Mirkwood would take a month if time was on their side and they didn’t lose the path, then it was five day’s walk from the edge of the wood to Lake Town where hopefully they could hire a boat to take them across the Long Lake and not have to actually walk to Dale, a boat would take most of the morning, the walk was about three days. From Dale it was getting into Erebor that would be the main issue. Obviously Frerin wasn’t going to just let him walk back in, not if he had hired orcs to go out and kill him. Balin said there was a plan in place, and that Dís would explain it all to him once the reached that part of the world.

Baby steps though, first they had to reach Mirkwood According to Gandalf something foul was spreading through the southern parts of the old Greenwood, making it a dangerous place to cross, and according to Balin King Thranduil would allow no dwarves to pass through his lands unmolested. Frerin had certainly made his mark on the elven king. Their journey through the wood would be just that much more difficult.

“I will leave you once we reach Mirkwood.” Gandalf said, nine pairs of eyes turned to look at the wizard.

“You’re not coming with us into Mirkwood?” Gloin asked irritably.

“I’m afraid not Master Gloin, I have important business elsewhere that I must attend to.” Gandalf said with the shake of his head. He looked over at Thorin who let out a small sigh. It would have been nice to have the wizard’s presence in the forest, especially if it had become as foul as he had suggested, but they could make it through without.

“We’ll be fine.” Thorin said.

“I don’t like it.” Dori protested. “What could be more important than retaking Erebor?”

“There are other lands in this world besides Erebor, Master Dwarf.” Gandalf said with a small bit of impatience and a great amount of restraint. “As I am sure Thorin could tell you.” He turned from Dori to look at Thorin. “I will rejoin you as soon as I am able to.”

“Understood.” Thorin said with a voice of finality. There had been a meeting in Rivendell close to the end of their stay, a White Council meeting, if he wasn’t mistaken. Those were no laughing matter, if there was something going on in Middle Earth, it would be better for Gandalf to investigate what then have war show up on their doorstep. He glanced over at Bilbo, it had been nice living in the Shire, not caring about the outside world. Now he would once again be a major player in the realms of politics in Middle Earth.

“I don’t like this.” Bilbo said quietly. “What could be going on that Gandalf would have to leave us?”

“Its probably best if we don’t know.” Thorin admitted, the wizard seemed agitated about something tonight, he would be glad if he never found out what Gandalf was doing. It would mean the danger had passed, and there was nothing to worry about.

“I hope he’s safe.” Thorin put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, the hobbit’s worry came from his mother’s long friendship with Gandalf, as well as their own. Thorin would like to think of the wizard as a friend and ally, even if they often disagreed.

“He will be. He’s a wizard after all, it takes quite a bit to bring them down.” Thorin wasn’t sure there was anything left in Middle Earth that could bring a wizard down anymore, perhaps Durin’s Bane if the legends were true, but no one was foolish enough to go into Moria anymore. No one but orcs.

After that the topic of dinner turned lighter, Nori inquired into Bilbo’s training with Fíli, offering to give the hobbit a few tips as well if he wanted them. Thorin was grateful that the Company seemed to be taking an interest into training Bilbo. If they could accept the hobbit as his consort, then hopefully the rest of Erebor would as well.

~Edge of Mirkwood~

If they were alive, they would have been here by now. They had to be alive though, what could they have run into? Kíli sighed and paced some more trying not to think about the wargs they had heard while traversing through the mountains. He and Fíli used to go out with some of the soldier for Dale on patrols before things got bad with Dale hunting wargs and orcs that preyed on the traveling  merchants in the area. Wargs, even without orcs riding them were just as dangerous, if the others had been caught unaware. He decided not to continue that thought. They’d arrived at the edge of the forest a week and a half ago, Dwalin had wanted to wait for them at the edge of the forest, but the other members of the Company never showed up. There was a chance they were already in the woods, but-

“Stop thinken so hard.” Dwalin growled, hefting his pack on his back. “You’re going to start a fire from all that shufflen.”

“Leave ‘im alone. He’s just worried.” Bofur said.

“We’re all worried.” Dwalin muttered. The week and a half of waiting for the others had started to wear on them, and now that they were getting ready to leave the edge of the forest to continue on their journey tempers were beginning to flare.

“If everything’s packed, we should get going.” Kíli suggested looking at the daunting trip they had in there. He glanced over a Bombur who had been making sure they had the food supply they would need. They’d been lucky that there had been a crevice in the side of the mountain and so as the stone giant fell they hadn’t been squashed just battered and bruised, with no way to tell the others they were still alive. He wondered how his brother was doing, they hardly ever went a day without each other’s company. Ori had once joked (before she’d started courting Fíli) that marrying one meant marrying the other as well. He didn’t think they were that bad. Still it had been almost a month since he’d seen Fíli, spoken to him, and it felt unnatural, like a limb was missing.

“Come on Ori, we need to go.” He said gently to the quiet darrowdam who was sitting nearby, her pack beside her, looking at the mountains that now looked so very distant and very much smaller than they when they’d been climbing up and down them.

“I know.” she said quietly, reaching over for her pack. “How’s your fingers.” Kíli glanced down at his middle and ring finger on his left hand that were splinted together, he’d broken them during the fall while trying to protect Ori. They were nearly healed, Bombur, while having no where near the expertise that Oin had, was a good substitute for the missing healer, and had splinted his fingers up right away upon noticing they were broken. It made him unable to use his bow though, he had resorted to using a knife Fíli had give him some time ago as his weapon of choice. It had been very painful to splint them, his left ring finger bore his sigil ring and they’d almost had to chisel it off his fingers were swollen so badly. Luckily, Bofur had been able to get it off without removing the finger or breaking his ring.

“They’re almost healed, Bombur thinks we’ll be able to remove the splint soon. That means I’ll have to retrain them to work with my bow.” He frowned at that thought, he would need to rebuild his muscles after not pulling his bow for so long, it took quite an amount of weight to draw it.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Ori said with reassurance. “I’ve never met a better bowman before.”

“They’re okay. They’re just lost somewhere in between the mountains and us. You know how Uncle Thorin’s sense of direction is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wrote itself, and wrote itself fast. I wanted to thank all of you who reviewed, and left kudos. Please continue to do so, as they are my only form of feedback and reward. So yeah, I think that's about everything for this chapter, if you have any questions or anything is uncertain, please don't hesitate to leave a review with your questions, I will respond. Oh and if you have seen the latest episode of Star Wars Rebels I am not okay right now!


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Gandalf had told them to stay on the path, but that didn’t mean that the path was always easy to find. The elven road was a tricky one to follow, and Bilbo was starting to believe that Gandalf had been completely right, there was something very wrong with these woods. It started with a feeling when they entered the forest. There had been a statue near the edge of the forest, its head had been missing, and in the middle of the chest had been a weird symbol painted on, it had almost looked like any eye. To be honest it had scared him, there was something eerily familiar about that eye. He had tried to put it out of his mind, none of the others had seemed to have noticed the eye nor the statute itself. He wanted to tell Gandalf about the ring he’d found in the goblin tunnels. But something had stopped him the whole time they were at Beorn’s and on the trip to Mirkwood afterwards. Everytime he thought it, he would begin to feel physically sick. He wasn’t sure why, it was a strange notion, why would telling anyone about an object make him sick? Well how many objects made one invisible? Perhaps the ring also made it so you couldn’t tell anyone about it either. Strange, but as he had found out, there were many strange things outside of the Shire.     

“Come on, Uncle Bilbo, keep up.” Fíli called out, Bilbo glanced up only to notice that the rest of the Company were now quite a ways ahead of him. Even Thorin who had generally tried to stay by his side since the mountains. “You’re thinking about something awfully hard.”

“You- you called me uncle.” Bilbo stammered, despite their relative closeness since Thorin had Fíli start training him at Beorn’s house, the eldest of Thorin’s nephews, the only one remaining a small voice reminded him but he chose to ignore it, hadn’t called him uncle. And Bilbo hadn’t actually expected him to, he and Thorin weren’t married yet and he was aware, though he hadn’t spoken to Thorin about it, that not all the dwarves might accept him as the King’s consort no matter how beloved Thorin might be to them.

“I did.” Fíli said quietly. “I’ve lost a lot on this journey, and I think I forgot what I gained as well.” He reached out to grab Bilbo’s shoulder, and brought his forehead against Bilbo’s in a gentle tap. He gasped quietly, it was a dwarfish gesture for close friends and family, Thorin had done it a couple of times to him, but in an effort to be has hobbitish as he could be Thorin hadn’t done it that often.

“Thank you.” Bilbo managed to say when the dwarf pulled back. It felt oddly nice to be accepted, Kíli had accepted him, now Fíli had accepted him, the only member of Thorin’s family left was Dís, his sister. Thorin hadn’t talked much of her while they lived in the Shire, just that she was a strong darrowdam, and that she was very wise. Neither one of her boys talked much about her either other than she had raised them be herself after their father’s death and had lead the small rebellion against her brother. And she had never stopped believing in Thorin, even when he had stopped believing in himself. Bilbo was quite looking forward to meeting her, she sounded like an extraordinary woman.

Even less then Dís had Thorin mentioned Frerin, perhaps a handful of times, before the quest Bilbo had been able to tell people that Thorin had a brother though he wasn’t exactly sure of what his name was. No one spoke much about his personality other than he was cruel, but there was more to his personality, there had to be. One could describe Thorin as very stubborn, but if all they focused on was his stubbornness then they missed that he was greatly loyal to the ones he loved. He wanted to ask Thorin more about his family, his childhood, but he didn’t know how to ask.

“Come on, Bilbo we’re going to lose the others if we don’t hurry.” Fíli said impatiently, pulling him along at a faster pace than Bilbo had been walking before. “I think Uncle wants to get out of this infernal forest already.”

“We’ve only been in it a day.”

“Aye,” Fíli agreed. “A day too long in his opinion, I think.” Bilbo chuckled and nodded, he was ready to be out of these woods, there was something eerie about them, the leaves didn’t seem to be the right color, even if it was mid-September, and there was something about the smell of the forest. A saying of Gandalf’s came back to him, when in doubt always follow your nose, well Bilbo’s nose was telling him that this was not a healthy forest. A sickness seemed to lie upon it. This forest creeped him out more than the Old Forest back home did, he almost spent a night there once during his early tween years. Young Saradoc Brandybuck had dared him, and he being the oldest out of the group of them felt that it was his duty to see through the dare. He would never enter that forest at night ever again. There was a reason the hedge was in place.

“This is going to be a long month.” Bilbo muttered.

~Mirkwood~

Two weeks, Bilbo was almost certain they’d been traveling in Mirkwood now for two weeks. The passage of time seemed rather strange here. Days and nights began to blur together under the strange colored leaves. “The path, the path!” Dori cried out, “We’ve lost the path!” Bilbo glanced down only to see the leaves of the trees below him.

“No we haven’t!” Gloin snapped, “Its right here.” He tapped his axe to the ground, but the ringing sound of the stone path was missing. Instead it was the sound of soft earth beneath the axe.

“How could we have lost it?” Nori shouted. It seemed impossible that they had lost the path, Gloin and Thorin were so careful in checking for the path every so often, at every seeming fork in the road. And yet somehow still they’d lost it, and he wasn’t sure quite when they’d lost it either? Had there been that ringing sound a few hours ago when Gloin had checked the path? He couldn’t quite remember.

“Spread out, we must find the path.” Thorin ordered. Bilbo looked apprehensively at the forest surrounding them, it was so large and the path wasn’t very big. Could they find it again? Two more weeks of this nightmare, and then Bilbo never wanted to travel through this confounded forest ever again. Going north to avoid the forest would bring them too close to the Gray mountains, Ered Mithen, and while there were a few dwarven settlements up that way, they hardly compared to the dwarven settlements of Ered Luin never mind Erebor. And orcs roamed the land that way, far too many orcs than what the small number of the Company could handle, Ori had explained one evening to him while they crossed the Misty Mountains. Going north around Mirkwood would bring them far too close to Mount Gundabad, a very strong orc stronghold. The orcs, it would seem to Bilbo, had quite the vendetta against the dwarves, Thorin, while explaining dwarvish history to him, had explained that the dwarves had first woken up in Mount Gundabad, Durin being the first. No one dared try to take the mountain from the orcs though, it was deemed even foolish than trying to take back Moria.

In return for the dwarfish history, Bilbo had told Thorin about Hobbit history, something he had severly been lacking in. True Bilbo hadn’t know much about Dwarven history, but they hoarded their secrets more protectively then they hoarded their gold, and he wasn’t a monarch who was going to rule one of the more powerful kingdoms in Middle Earth. He told him that they’d originally lived in the Anduin Valley somewhere between the old Greenwood and the Misty Mountains. At some point, probably with the rise of the Witch King and Angmar they’d left and wandered for a great deal of time until one of the human kings in the north had allowed them to settle in the Shire. Most hobbits didn’t care to know their own history, they were content with the fact that they’d lived in the Shire and had always lived in the Shire, not caring much beyond that. Belladonna though would not let her son though grow up not knowing the history of the Hobbit people. And he in turn had shared that knowledge with Thorin.

“Bilbo?” Fíli asked, “You spaced out again.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much to do in this dreadful forest other than to think or be hungry. And he was already very hungry. Beorn’s supplies had to last them an entire month, and so Thorin, being as frugal as he was, was making sure those supplies would last them the entire way. Which was probably for the best seeing as they would likely spend more than a month in here now that they had lost the path.

“We’re going to die in these woods.” Bilbo heard Dori complain as they spread out. Two other voices chimed in agreement, Gloin and Oin maybe. Bilbo shook his head, they hadn’t complained nearly as much on the rest of their journey has they had in these woods. Why? Bilbo huffed, even Thorin was acting more irritable here then he had in a while. Could it be, being lost? They hadn’t really been lost throughout the journey, except for that small escapade into the goblin tunnels but he’d been the one lost that time not them. Or maybe it was the elves, dwarves didn’t seem to like elves, he had noticed that in Rivendell. None of them had been hostile towards the elves, at least not that he’d seen, but Gloin hadn’t made his dislike of the elves unknown. Nor had Dwalin, and even some of the more mild mannered dwarves like Bombur and Dori had not enjoyed their stay in Rivendell. He wanted to go back, recovering from injuries did not leave one with much time to see the beauties of Rivendell, and he’d read a lot about them, heard a lot about them from his mother. He and Thorin could take a holiday or something once Erebor was stable again.Sure they would deserve that.

“Don’t go too far out, Bilbo.” Thorin said from behind, Bilbo whirled around, a bit startled at hearing anyone’s voice. “You wander too far and you could be lost forever.”

“I won’t.” he promised. He wished he knew which direction they were going in though, north, south, east or west, were they headed for the Erebor or back towards the Misty Mountains? “Gandalf was right though, there’s something very wrong with this forest.” Thorin stopped walking for a moment, nodded and then continued on.

“It is not how I remember it.” He admitted. “Thranduil has allowed something foul to fester in these woods.”

“I don’t like it.”

They walked on in silence, Bilbo wasn’t sure what to say, their journey weighed down on them. Thorin was preparing to be a king, to be accepted by his people once more, and he was just hoping to be accepted by them. Dwarves were secretive by nature, and generally hostile towards outside, some of them down right xenophobic. It didn’t bode well for his acceptability as Thorin’s betrothed and future Consort. If he wasn’t wanted, or he was chased out of Erebor by dwarves wielding pick axes and Valar know what else he would just return to the Shire, continue on with the life he had been living, without Thorin. He wouldn’t make Thorin choose, that would be too cruel of him.

“What are you thinking about, dear one?” Thorin asked.

“Our week vacation we never got to have.” Thorin had been going to take some time off from the forge he had worked at in the Shire. He had wanted to go to Tooksborough to see his mother, Thorin had been trying to convince him to stay at Bag End and do other things. It would have been time for just the two of them, peaceful.

“I think I took a bit longer than a week off.” Thorin mused humorously. “We left in such a hurry I don’t even think I left instructions to the next smith they hired. Do you think your mother is okay with us just disappearing like that?” A frown formed on the dwarf’s face.

“I’m sure she had a right laugh about us disappearing off into the sunset together. The rumors that must have been spread.” Bilbo gave a small, slightly uncomfortable chuckle. His reputation in the Shire was likely in tatters, perhaps beyond repair. It didn’t matter now, not half way across the world and a few months later. “And I doubt the have hired anybody to replace you yet. If I remember correctly, that forge stood cold for about ten years before you arrived, maybe longer.” Thorin shook his head, muttering under his breath something about hobbits and metal work.

They walked along a little bit farther till they came to the sound of rushing water. “Is that the river Gandalf warned us of?” Bilbo asked hesitantly as they approached, the water was dark in color, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of the darkness of the forest or if the water was actually dark. Gandalf had warned them before they entered that there was a river which waters had been poisoned by the darkness that was spreading throughout the forest and should not be touched at all costs. Bad things would happen if they did, or that was the impression Bilbo had gotten from the wizard’s warnings. It wasn’t as if they need anything more to happen to them on this quest.

“I think so.” Thorin said with a frown, “We’re going to have to find our way across it. Gandalf told us this river runs north to south, we can’t go around it.” He rubbed the thick stubble on his chin, it was coming in rather nicely, Bilbo admitted to himself. “I’ll go back and get the others, hopefully once we cross the river we can find the path once more.” Thorin turned to go back and find the others.

“Wait, won’t you get lost?” Bilbo asked, reaching out and grabbing Thorin’s arms.

“No, dwarves can see quite well in the dark. I’ll be back soon.” He promised with a soft smile and a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. Then he was gone.

“For seeing well in the dark, we still lost the path.” Bilbo muttered he wasn’t quite happy being on his own in the dark forest, especially when he was beside a river that could be potentially dangerous to his health if he messed with the water. He kicked over some dirt, wondering how long it would take Thorin to find the others, they could be pretty far spread out by now. He hoped they found the path soon, it was bad enough knowing where they were going, but now lost and wandering in the woods seemed ten times worse.

He took the ring out of his pocket, twirling it between his fingers in a sense of comfort.  he didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. The ring was odd, he’d never known a ring to make one invisible, but there were many odd things in world beyond the borders of the Shire. Lots of things that wanted to eat you too, trolls, goblins, the creature in the cave, in fact Bilbo was a bit surprised nothing had tried to eat them here in the woods yet. No wolves or any other type of woodland predator had been seen since they entered, some fowl looking squirrels yes, but beyond that nothing. Odd. There weren’t even any birds chirping about, it wasn’t cold enough that they would have flown south yet either. The unnatural quietness about the forest made him feel rather uneasy to be quite honest. Thorin would be back soon, and he would be back with a pack of rather loud dwarves who would make up for the lack of noise the forest produced.

As he waited he found himself humming, at first he hummed a merry tune that he often sang while drunk at the Green Dragon Inn, something about Tooks or what not. He had been teaching Bofur a song about the man on the moon, and when he began to hum the first few notes of the song he found himself furiously missing the hatted dwarf, with his warm smile and friendly attitude, and decided to avoid humming that song. Instead he settled on a song that Thorin sang at times when he missed his home, one about dwarves who had lost their home to dragon fire. He couldn’t remember all of it, so he ended up singing only a small part of it. “Far over the Misty Mountains cold, to dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, to find our long forgotten gold. The pines were roaring on the heights, the winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, in flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light.”

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Fíli said walking up behind him, and making him nearly fall into the river.

“Sweet Yavanna, Fíli, give a poor hobbit some warning before you sneak up on him.” Bilbo said, grabbing at his chest, trying to catch what little breath he had left. Fíli smirked.

“You weren’t paying attention, dear Uncle Bilbo, we dwarves aren’t naturally quiet.”

“Maybe not like hobbits, but I heard the stories Dwalin told Thorin, you and your brother knew how to avoid trouble when you needed to.” Fíli flinched slightly and he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry, Fíli, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s, it’s okay.” The blond dwarf glanced at the river. “People are going to talk about him, about all of them. I should get use to it now.” He gave his now normal half smile to Bilbo. “You have a lovely singing voice though, I imagine Thorin probably sang that song to you.” He nodded.

“Your uncle has a wonderful singing voice too. You should make him sing something at his coronation or something.” Bilbo said.

“The Durins are musically gifted.” Fíli said with an air of pride. Bilbo almost laughed, the Durins were royalty, rich, handsome, brave, loyal to a fault, and musically talented, was there anything they couldn’t do? “Kíli and I both play the fiddle. Maybe I could play something for you when we get back to Erebor. I have missed playing it.”

“I would love to hear you play.” Bilbo said kindly, noticing the faraway look in Fíli’s eyes. “Did Thorin send you my way?”

“No. I heard you singing. Perhaps you should sing more so that Thorin can find us though.” Bilbo shook his head and rolled his eyes and went back to humming. This time he hummed a song of his own invention, he called it the Walking Song.

Thorin and the others showed up not too long afterwards much to Bilbo’s relief. “You’re both here. Good.” Thorin said with a soft smile.

“Took you long enough.” Bilbo muttered, sliding his ring back into his jacket pocket, he’d rather forgotten that he had taken it out. Thorin either ignored him, or didn’t hear him as he turned towards the blackened river.

“We need to find a way over.”

“Look at those vines, could we use those to get  across.” Fíli said pointing up at the trees where vines dangled across the stream.

“Perhaps Bilbo and maybe Nori.” Balin said doubtfully. “But the rest of us are too stout and heavy.” Bilbo eyed the vines wearily, hobbits were not overly fond of water, none went out on the streams or little rivers in the Shire except the Brandybucks, and that was considered quite queer for the rest of the Shire, even to the Tooks. Those vines could easily break even under his weight, he was no slight hobbit, well he hadn’t been, but all this walking over valley and mountain seemed to have forced him to lose his quite healthy hobbit belly. Three meals a day would do that to a healthy hobbit too.

“The elves must have a way to cross.” Dori said.

“We’ll split up, one group will go north, the other south to find a way to cross. The path we were on crosses over this stream. There will be a way to cross, I am sure of it.” Thorin said, “Bilbo stay here.”

“Uncle, look.” Fíli pointed to something a little ways down the river from where they stood. “I think it might be a boat.” Bilbo looked over to where Fíli was pointing. Sure enough, there was a boat there, tied to a tree on their side of the stream.

“Well, those bloody pointed ears bastards must need a way to get across the stream as well.” Gloin said walking towards the boat. “Lucky us.” Bilbo wasn’t so sure how lucky they were, if the boat was on their side of the stream, did that mean that there was also someone else on this side as well? Could someone been watching them this whole time. He almost shuttered at the thought of an unknown person watching them since they arrived in the forest, it made their own trip through even more creepier.

“We can’t fit all of us in the boat at once.” Thorin said as they all walked towards the boat. “Maybe two at the most, we don’t want to risk capsizing it and sending someone into the stream.”

“You should go first, Thorin.” Balin suggested, Thorin bit his lip and rubbed his beard before nodding.

“Oin will come with me.” It didn’t take long after that for them to split into pairs, Dori and Balin, Gloin and Nori, and Fíli and Bilbo. Thorin wanted Fíli and Bilbo to come after him, but Bilbo thought that that was showing favoritism and that Balin and Dori should go next because Balin was important to Erebor. Gloin and Nori decided to go last to avoid any controversy.

The crossing went smoothly, the boat was a relatively sturdy one, until Gloin and Nori were exiting from the boat. Nori’s foot caught on some of the rope at the bottom of the boat as he was trying to get out, which tripped him up and sent him into the stream below.

“Nori!” Dori shouted.

They were able to pull Nori out of the water using the rope that he was tangled up in, without too much incident, and no one else fell in, thank the Valar, Bilbo decided. Nori’s eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a peaceful manner. “He’s asleep.” Oin said with some amazement. A breath of relief went around those of the Company. They made a pallet on which the thief could sleep, and they could carry him throughout the forest while he slumbered.

It was Bilbo’s turn for watch again, it was hard to see in the dark forest, with the trees blocking out all light of the moon or the stars, and none of them dared to light a fire with the bad feeling the forest gave them. No telling what was out there in the forest at night. It was still so silent though, the only upside to that was that he wasn’t jumping at every little sound in the middle of the night like he usually did. “Sleep, Bilbo.” Thorin’s voice said out of the dark, Bilbo almost screamed. He did jump up though, and grab his sword from where it laid beside him, rather uselessly. He and Fíli had both recently been too tired to carry on with sword practices in the evening. They’d both decided to wait till they got out of the woods before resuming practices once more, whenever that would be.

“Holy Valar, Thorin Oakenshield, you scared the wits out of me.” Bilbo gasped, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him by the fright. He could almost see Thorin’s smug look through the darkness.

“I can’t sleep, and I thought you could use some.” Thorin said, he grabbed Bilbo’s upper arm as he sat down on the fallen log beside him. “I think we’ll be out of the woods soon.”

“Yes.” Bilbo agreed, or rather hoped, he wasn’t sure he could stand too much longer in these woods without going crazy. How the elves had managed so long was beyond his understanding. Perhaps being immortal gave one immunities to such foul things. “What’s on your mind.”

“It’s nothing, Bilbo, nothing you need concern yourself with.” A calloused palm caressed his cheek. He smiled into it, enjoying the feeling of it.

“Is it Nori? It has been almost five days now and he hasn’t woken.”

“Yes.” Thorin admitted with a sigh. “I am not sure what is preventing him from waking up. The river, whatever water from that could potentially be in his system, or his own will.”

“You think he doesn’t want to wake up?”

“He misses Dwalin. Dwarves- we- we love once, Bilbo. We weren’t made for more than one to be carved in our chest. Some say Mahal specially designs certain dwarves to be with each other, Nori and Dwalin, whatever their differences were in status, they overcame it. That creates a special bond, and now that Dwalin is gone he is missing a part of himself.”

“You dwarves, you’re so over dramatic.” Bilbo said with a degree of exasperation. “Sensible hobbits are never this complicated. When we feel something, we say it, we tell others when we are missing someone we love, rather than trying to die for them. My mother lost my father over ten years ago she was sad, yes, but never to this degree. You’re all so emotionally stunted.” Thorin snorted.

“Maybe we are over dramatic because we are emotionally stunted.” Thorin stated, it was Bilbo’s turn to snort as he took Thorin’s hand in between his own and began to trace the palm lines. “Dwarves don’t show emotions the way hobbits do, so when we do they are always in excess because we don’t have the control the way hobbits do.” Bilbo felt Thorin lean in closer to him.

“You’re pulling my leg.” He whispered, he could feel Thorin’s breath on him.

“Maybe.” Thorin whispered just before Bilbo felt his lips press against his own.

The next day wasn’t any better than the previous days before it, Nori still hadn’t woken up leaving Dori, Gloin, Oin, and Fíli to carry him on the pallet they had made for him when he first fell in. The forest seemed to get stuffier, and stuffier to Bilbo, they seemed to walk in circles, the humidity seemed to rise, and no one talked to each other. It was unbearable, so unbearable that Bilbo decided to do the most unhobbity thing he could think of besides running out his front door to follow Thorin in retaking his throne, he climbed a tree. Some of the younger, braver hobbits like Bilbo had been in his youth used to climb some of the smaller trees around Hobbiton and Tooksbrough, but he doubted none had ever dared to climb a tree as tall as the ones in these woods. They must have been close to thirty feet tall, and the higher Bilbo climbed the cooler the air got and the more favorable he viewed the forest.

The leaves at the top were a beautiful mix of blue and orange in color, and there was birds, beautiful blue birds fluttering about up top. And he could feel the sun, it hit his face like water when a man is dying of thirst. It was a marvelous feeling, soon he would have to return to under the tree canopy and report what he saw to Thorin, no doubt the dwarf was looking for him. He probably should have told someone he was going up to have a look. And there was the Lonely Mountain, Erebor, it didn’t seem so far away anymore, they were closer to the edge of the forest than Bilbo had originally thought. That was quite a relief to think about, only a few short more days and they would be out of this infernal woods, and hopefully they could find someone to help Nori.

With a heavy heart he dipped below the canopy to tell Thorin of what he had learned only to find the forest eerily quiet. No sounds of the stomps of dwarven feet anywhere. “Thorin?” he called, breaking the silence, he dreaded doing so once he did. A shiver went up his spine as he started down the tree and stepped into something very sticky. He held his breath as he glanced down and saw the huge spider web he’d just stepped into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this took. I really didn't mean for this to take so long to write, school got in the way, as did how much I hate Mirkwood. Being lost in the woods isn't quite so fun to write in my opinion. Next chapter will be spiders and elves. Anyway, I'm thinking about writing a sequel. Any interest? We're still about five chapters out (approximately) from the end, but I just wanted to know. Thanks for reading and sticking with me, please review.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Bilbo gasped in horror as he realized that the wooded area they had all been walking in had almost instantaneously been turned into a huge spider’s nest. His first thought was that he hadn’t been up there that long, the spiders must have known where they were and were lying in wait. His second was that these spiders must be huge to have built a nest so big. He couldn’t see any of said spiders, but he was sure they were close. He reached down for his sword, he didn’t want to go down to spiders without a fight, and without even thinking about he slipped on his ring as well.

“Where is it? Where is it?” he heard a spider hiss, he almost gave a shout as one approached him, ambling about on its eight legs. “I smell it, but I can’t find it.” It glanced in Bilbo’s direction, then turned away, shuffling off to somewhere else. He had to find the dwarves, those spiders were huge. Hundreds of times bigger than the ones that lived in the Shire eating bugs. He’d always tried to free the poor bugs that were caught in a spider’s web, but there were times when all he would find were their dried out husks, bled dry by the spiders. That spider, it had been big enough to eat a human if it had so desired, eight dwarves and one hobbit would have been no problem for it to eat, and from the voices Bilbo could now hear he was sure there were more of them. Why he could understand them talking now when he’d never been able to understand them before was a bit beyond what he knew. There wasn’t anything different about him, not really, nothing that would make him be able to understand spiders, unless Gandalf had put some kind of strange magic on him.

He crept around the tree, two more spiders were over there, and he could now see that hanging off branches of a nearby tree were three cocoons of spider silk. “I don’t see why we can’t just eat them now.” One of the spiders said.

“Attercop said that there was one more he could smell.” the other spider hissed. One of the cocoons gave off a rather Gloin sounding growl. “Quiet you.” the spider said, he crawled over to the cocoon that was now wriggling about. “Or I’ll stick you.” Bilbo highly doubted Gloin could understand what the giant spider could say, but that didn’t seem to deter the spider. He gathered what courage he could find in himself, it didn’t feel like much, but he also couldn’t let the spiders drain his friends of their blood. Couldn’t let them cause any more tragedy than what they had already faced.  He swung his sword at the nearest spider, cutting into its body. The spider lost its hold on the tree branch and fell into the sticky web below. Quickly Bilbo made his way over to the other spider who had already noticed that his friend was injured. The spider went into a screaming rage trying to find Bilbo, but the hobbit was already prepared for its frantic rage and stabbed the spider in the eye.

“It stings, it stings!” the spider hissed as Bilbo pull his little sword out of the creature and then hacked at one of its legs. He was never going to want to see another spider after this again. The spider lost its balance as well and fell into the web below leaving him free to cut down the three dwarves in the trees. Quickly he cut down the three cocoons, watching as they fell, pulling down the sticky spiders web with them. There were three of the dwarves, he watched briefly as the three climbed out, Gloin, Oin, and Bifur. Where was Thorin and the others? He looked around for another cocoon, spotting two a couple of trees away, the spiders weren’t going to make this rescue attempt easy.

He jumped across a few branches, just barely avoiding a glob of the gwey spider silk that was in a crack between a branch and the trunk of a tree. As he was jumping over to the next tree to cut down the two cocoons a spider jumped out in front of him. “I know you’re there.” The spider hissed, “I can’t see you, but I can smell you.” Bilbo thrusted out his sword in front of him and stabbed the spider’s side.

“Try and find me.” He called, jumping up and grabbing onto the branch above him.

“Stings, it stings.” The spider said, Bilbo smirked to himself, the other spider had said the same thing about his little sword.

“Sting,” he said quietly to himself, “That’s not a bad name.” He hefted it a few times in his hand and then swung at the spider who was crawling up the tree to get to him. Once that spider had also fallen, he jumped down to the branch he had been on and cut down the two cocoons. Only three more left to find. He glanced down to Gloin and Oin who were hacking away at a couple of spiders on the ground, while Bifur helped Balin and Dori out of their cocoons. He jumped down to them and removed his ring.

“Do you know where the others could be?” He asked.

“Bilbo where did you come from?” Dori asked, he picked up one of Gloin’s axes and swung at an incoming spider.

“It doesn’t matter, do you know where Thorin, Fíli, and Nori could be?”

“I saw them being dragged to the other side of the tree there.” Balin said pointing toward a nearby tree. “How did you manage not to get grabbed by the spiders? We didn’t even know they were there till they were on top of us.” Bifur nodded and said something in Khuzdul in agreement.

“I had climbed a tree.” Bilbo said, as Gloin and Oin began hacking at a spider that had come too close to the circle they had made.  “I wanted to see how far we are from the edge of these confounded woods. We’re not far, maybe a day’s more from the edge.”

“That is good news, laddie.” Balin said with a warm smile. Two more spiders came at them, Balin went after one, and Bifur the other. Bilbo slipped his ring back on and started for the tree that Balin had thought the spiders had tied the other three up on.

There weren’t any spider guarding the cocoons, at least none that Bilbo could see, most seemed to be trying to regain their lost meals, but now that the dwarves knew that the spiders were attacking the arachnids weren’t having much luck. Bilbo reached for the nearest branch of the tree, while heaving himself up he almost fell, but was able to grab hold just in time to pull himself up. The cocoons were tied to the branch above him, but there was no way he would be able to reach it, he took Sting and very carefully began to cut at the cocoon nearest to him, hoping that he avoided whichever dwarf was inside it. He dodged a fist that came flying at him. “Will you stop that.” Bilbo hissed at the fist, he hadn’t cut open the cocoon enough to see which dwarf was throwing fists at him.

“Bilbo?” He heard Nori ask.

“Nori.” He gasped. “You’re awake.”

“Damn spider’s poison woke me up.” Nori growled as Bilbo began cutting at the spider silk. “I was having a pleasant dream too.” Nori sighed wistfully.

“Dori will be happy you’re awake.” Bilbo said, “He’s down fighting spiders right now.” Nori didn’t say anything, and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had been correct, if Nori hadn’t wanted to wake from whatever spell the water in the stream had put on him because Dwalin had been there. If Thorin had died and dreams were the only place he could see him, he wasn’t sure he’d want to leave either. Of course he would, he was a Baggins, and Baggins were sensible and it certainly wasn’t sensible to sleep all day just because one was missing a loved one. He sighed, and continued to cut down the cocoon. Once he’d cut enough of the silk threads, Nori all but stepped out of it, there was silk matted in his red hair, and he had a sad look in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He said quietly to Bilbo.

“Dori is on the other side of the tree.” Bilbo directed and went over to the next cocoon and began to cut a slit in the side of it. No fists came flying at him, or anything, no sound came from the cocoon at all. He gasped when he finally opened it enough to have Fíli almost fall on top of him.

“G’way Amad.” Fíli murmured, “Tired.” Bilbo chuckled and leaned the young dwarf against him, trying to figure out a way to get Fíli down the tree.

“You’ve got to wake up now, Fíli.” He said.

“He okay?” Bilbo heard Thorin’s muted voice from the next cocoon.

“Yes.” Bilbo said, “He’s still affected by the spider’s poison though, none of the rest of you are as woozie as he is.”

“He took twice as many bites from the spiders trying to protect me, and searching for you.” Bilbo laid Fíli down on the branch, he was rather grateful that this was quite a sturdy branch, even if it wasn’t that far of a fall. He made his way over to Thorin’s cocoon and quickly began cutting the last dwarf out.

“Everyone else is okay.” Bilbo said as he cut. “They’re down fighting the spiders. I think they’re making enough of a distraction that they haven’t noticed us yet.” He glanced in the direction of where he could hear the sounds of dwarves fighting, paranoid that one of the spiders had seen him cutting Fíli or Thorin out.

Thorin heaved Fíli onto his back, wrapping his nephew’s arms around his neck and putting Fíli’s legs around his waist like what some of the hobbit mothers did with their tired fauntlings after they had been out playing all day. It made Bilbo wonder if Thorin would have done this with Fíli and Kíli while they were growing up if he had been there. He didn’t have long to dwell on the thoughts as Thorin climbed down the tree, his sword in hand ready to fight the spiders. He jumped down after the dwarf, Sting ready in his hand, he would have to tell Thorin what he named the sword later, he would find it amusing.

He should have been watching more carefully, but he had relaxed now that all the dwarves were found, he didn’t even know there was any danger till Gloin had shouted for him to watch out. He turned around, to see a huge spider leaping for him. He reached for Sting which was back in its place in his belt. Suddenly an arrow shot out of nowhere from one of the trees knocking the spider back, and a red haired elf jumped out of the trees with at least a half dozen other elves. Bilbo was about to thank them, when an arrow also appeared in his face.

~Thranduil’s Dungeons~

Home. They were close to home, close to his mother once more, close to everything Kíli had always known all his life. He and Fíli had spent their whole lives till eight months ago in the lands surrounding Erebor, they had been to Dale, to the Iron Hills, even once to a feast in Thranduil’s own halls. He had been very young back then, so it was no wonder the elf king hadn’t recognized him. They had been captured two weeks ago, and put almost immediately in Thranduil’s dungeons. Dwalin might have said something to offend the elf king, when they were first captured. But at least now they could eat three meals a day, the elves didn’t treat their prisoners badly, even if they were wrongly imprisoned. How were they supposed to know that Thranduil had forbidden dwarves from crossing his lands till the jewels of Losgar were returned.

He wished Tauriel were here, the captain of the guard was the only elf willing to speak to him, and he was getting quite bored sitting in his cell with no one to talk to. He couldn’t see any of the others he was traveling with, though occasionally he could hear Dwalin shouting when he got particularly fed up with doing nothing all day. Their weapons had been taken from them, which made the bald dwarf particularly antsy, he was all but married to Grasper and Keeper, his twin axes. Spiders had come too close to the elf king lands and he had sent Tauriel out to deal with them, he only knew because she had been speaking with him when she received the message. She was rather nice, for an elf, and pretty, her red hair reminded him of a fire moon he saw one time while traveling to the Iron Hills with his mother and brother. Very beautiful. She talked to him of the elves love of star light, he had always thought it to be cold and distant, she saw it as memory. Maybe it was for the elves, but the dwarves who delved deep into the mountains likely wouldn’t find memory in the stars. Their memory was elsewhere, in their language, in the songs they wove, in the secrets they kept. He had wanted to tell her that, but they’d been interrupted by the elven prince, Legolas. One day he would tell her though.

He wondered how big the spiders were if the captain of the guard had to go deal with them, bigger than any spider he’d seen probably, the only spiders he’d seen were the ones that could be stepped on with his boot. He hadn’t even been aware there were spiders that were bigger than those, but there were such things as stone giants out in the world, and people smaller than dwarves who lived under hills so perhaps there were also giant spiders out in the wide world. This adventure to find his uncle had shown him that there was so much of the world he hadn’t seen yet, lands to the east, to the south, the Blue Mountains where there was also a settlements of dwarves. He hadn’t even seen the Gray Mountains, Ered Mithrin, they were supposed to be dangerous, but that was half the fun wasn’t it? Maybe he could convince Thorin to allow him these adventures, his mother wouldn’t approve of it, she’d always wanted to keep him and Fíli in the mountain as much as possible, but he would be an adult dwarf soon and then she wouldn’t have a say, well as much of a say. She would always have a say, she was Lady Dís, and his mother, and she would have a say in whatever she wanted, he didn’t think that even Uncle Thorin could prevent that.

He pulled his mother’s runestone out of his pocket and threw it up in the air and caught it again with left hand. The splint that had been tied on it from where he’d broken his finger from the fall in the mountains had been removed. Tauriel had done it, he’d asked her too when he realized that the cast had been on two days longer than it should have been, he was afraid of the damage it would do to to his ability to shoot a bow. She’d pulled out one of her daggers and cut it off then and there, no questions asked. They had ended up talking for some time after that, mostly about archery. He hoped after Uncle Thorin took the throne they could be true friends, she told him once of how she wanted to see the world outside of this forest, perhaps she could travel with him on his adventures as well. He might have an easier time convincing Thorin and his mother that way.

He threw the runestone up again, he hoped his mother wasn’t too worried about him. He really wasn’t as reckless as she thought he was all the time, well maybe a little. She had hopefully made it out of the mountain okay after they left and went to the Iron Hills, that had been the plan. Dwalin had insisted that she leave the mountain, he was worried for her safety, Fíli had as well. She was safe, she was out of Frerin’s grasp, she was going to be so proud of them when they saw her again. She would likely hug him and Fíli and threaten to never let them go (even though this had been her idea in the first place), especially after she heard about how he almost died in the mountains. That might put a damper on his plans to go travel after Thorin was crowned, he suddenly wondered how much he could bribe his brother and uncle to not mention the incident to her.

He heard lots of footsteps coming down the stairs towards the dungeons, and glance out of the bars of his cell hoping to see whoever was coming down. But whoever they were, they went into a different part of the dungeon, Thranduil had a mighty big prison down here, and Kíli couldn’t help but wonder why. It wasn’t as if the Woodland Realm was filled with elves who stole from each other, elves seemed to be too dignified to lower themselves to such actions, and he had never heard of elves murdering other elves till his uncle had told him that story in Rivendell, the one about the elf whose name started with an M and the crazy gems. He couldn’t quite remember the exact details, only that Lord Elrond knew the elf who the story was about.

“How was spider hunting?” He asked as Tauriel walked into their part of the dungeon. The red haired elf regarded him coolly for a moment.

“They’re getting bold.” She said, there was a hint of something in her voice that Kíli couldn’t quite figure out. “If I could just find their nests and kill them at their source, we could be rid of this mess, but the king won’t let me.” She sunk down on the rock formation just outside his cell bars and sighed in frustration.

“Uncle thinks that there is an evil rising out there.” He said, staring at the rock wall across from him. “Do you think that could be causing your spider issue?”

“Which uncle thinks this?”

“Thorin. He fought against orcs in Rohan and Gondor during his exile. He was the great hero Oakenshield.” He got a bit excited thinking about his uncle being the dwarf hero that the people would whisper about when Frerin couldn’t hear them. The people had said that Thorin Oakenshield would return one day to rescue them, he was glad to be able to make that dream come true for them.

“I do not believe he is wrong.” She said slowly, “Those spiders, they are spawns of Ungoliant.”

“Who?” He ducked his head, a bit ashamed not to know of this person, Tauriel said the name as if she expected him to know who they were.

“Ungoliant was the mother of all spiders, she worked with Morgoth to bring down the light of the trees.” The elf explained. “Do you not have stories about this as well?”

“Well, we dwarves never experienced the light of the trees.” Kíli said with a shrug. “And I think we speak of Ungoliant, we just have a different name for her. You know kind of how you call our creator Äule, but we call him Mahal. So Ungoliant is the evil mother of all spiders.”

“Yes, and when evil arises her children grow to an enormous size and are now spreading darkness across our forest.” Kíli was suddenly really glad they had not met these spiders of enormous size while traversing the forest. “They were attacking your kin when we arrive.”

“Thorin and Fíli?” Kíli jumped up. “Did you see them? Are they here?” He grabbed the bars, trying to push his face out in between them. He hadn’t seen his brother in six weeks, he was desperate to see him again, to know he was okay.

“Describe them.”

“Uncle Thorin has long dark brown hair, with a few streaks of silver in them, he doesn’t really have a beard because of his exile. It’s a bit thicker than mine. And Fíli is blond, with two braids coming off of his mustache and two braids off of his beard.”

“Yes I saw them.”

“Can I see them, please Tauriel, I have to see them.” She shook her head sadly.

“I can’t allow that. I’m sorry. Besides your uncle is speaking to the king right now, you could not see him right away even if you were allowed to.”

~Woodland Realm~

Thorin tried not to fight against the elf guards that pulled him away from his companions, away from Bilbo, it was hard not to though. He would need every bit of tact that Balin had ever taught him to make it through the meeting the elfking wanted with him though. Elves and dwarves did not naturally like each other, animosities between their people spanned back to the First Age, and both races had long memories. But he had no real quarrel with Thranduil either, which hopefully would make things easier when it came to negotiating their release. That is, if Thranduil didn’t decided to be a stubborn asshole and not see a good deal if it bit him in the ass.

The guards lead him up a winding staircase that lead him straight to where Thranduil sat on his throne, the throne was made up of some kind of wood, Bilbo might know better than he what kind exactly, with elk antlers coming out of the back. Whether they made up the actual back of the throne or were just decoration, he couldn’t tell with Thranduil sitting down in front of it.

“Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thrór, the banished Prince of Erebor.” Thranduil said, standing up almost immediately, he sneered at the mention of Thorin’s grandfather. “It has been some time since I have seen you in these parts, and you travel with dwarves as well. That is a dangerous thing for you to be doing.”

“I know the risks I face.” Thorin said raising his head to meet the elf king. He was glad the guard no longer stood on both sides of him.

“Taking Erebor will be no easy feat.” The elf king began to descend the few steps that lead up to his throne, his silver and red robes billowing out behind him. It would seem that despite being an immortal creature, he hadn’t quite grown out of the flair for dramatic stage yet, he was beginning to rival the level of the Rohirrim King Fingal. “And I wonder, Thorin who is also known as the Oakenshield, will you be a better king than your brother or your grandfather?” Thorin took a deep breath, and tried to fight against the anger in his chest that made him want to lash out the pompous elf who judged him.

“I will not fall to the sickness, if that is what you are implying.” He said simply, unclenching his fists. “Gold has no sway over me the way it did my grandfather, there are more precious things in life.” Thranduil circled him now, Thorin turned his upper body to keep facing him. He would not let the taller king intimidate him.

“I have laws, laws that forbid dwarves from traveling through my realm. The punishment for that crime is a century in my dungeons. But I do not believe you have a century to wait do you, Thorin Oakenshield?”

“It was not a crime when I left this part of the world nearly a century ago. I was unaware I was breaking any laws.” Thorin stated simply.

“You might be forgiven for that transgression, but surely members of your party, dwarves who are of high status in Erebor would know of my edict. And to have not one party of dwarves, but two cross into my lands in less than a month, surely you cannot blame me for being a little cautious.” Thranduil stopped circling him and came to stand in front of Thorin, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“There has been another group of dwarves traveling through the woods?” Thorin asked, it sounded a bit incredulous, his brother surely had yet to learn of his return. There would be no need for anyone in Erebor to bed heading west. What was Thranduil’s aims?

“Surely you sent them in as a scouting party. The party contained your own nephew.” Kíli? The other party of dwarves had Kíli with them? But he fell, he had watched them all fall, they had been smashed into a cliff face. Thranduil continued to speak by Thorin could no longer hear him. Were they all alive, or just Kíli? He should have searched harder for them, but it had seemed so obvious what their fates must be. He had planned to search at least for their bodies the next morning before they’d been captured by goblins, he had hoped to find some trace of all of them to bring back to their loved ones.

“May I see them?” He asked, interrupting Thranduil’s speech.

“What?”

“I want to see them.” Thorin said a bit louder. “I was seperated from my youngest nephew over a month ago and wish to see him.”

“I am afraid that they have been convicted of their crimes already, and must now face one hundred years in my dungeon.”

“Do you think this is the wisest course of action to proceed, Thranduil? I am about to become King of Erebor. I have the will of the Valar on my side, and I know what is in that mountain that you desire. The white gems, the ones my grandfather refused to give you.”

“You would give back what your grandfather stole?” Thranduil asked, there was a look in his eye that almost made Thorin want to turn in run, it was a similar one to the madness he had seen in his grandfather’s eyes, the look that had made him turn on his own kin and banish Thorin.

“I am not my grandfather, nor am I my brother. I will return what is rightfully yours.” Thorin promised. “You have my word.” Thranduil turned away from Thorin, and walked back towards his throne, probably gathering what composure he had left.

“Bring me Tauriel, and prepare rooms, we have guests.” The blond elf said to the two elf guards who had led Thorin to their king. Once they were out of earshot Thranduil looked back down at Thorin. “Hear me, Thorin son of Thrain, if you are crowned king and I do not have my jewels you will face my wrath.” Thorin nodded, he would make sure the elf’s king jewels were returned to him. He would not double cross the elf king, Erebor would need allies if she was to survive.

~Woodland Realm~

“This way milords.” An elf said, the ropes that had bound them together had been cut nearly fifteen minutes ago, a misunderstand, the elf who had done so had said. They were now to be honored guests in the elf king’s court, Fíli sighed. He wondered what Thorin had said to the Thranduil to placate him, the elf king wasn’t entirely known for his generosity. He usually only did things that suited him, and would benefit him in the long run. With Thorin king of Erebor, relationships between the two kingdoms would be better, the Woodland Realm had seen better days if his memory served correct. It had been nearly thirty years since he had last been here, his mother had been invited to a feast, an attempt to gain good will with Ferin.

“I don’t like this.” Gloin whispered, “These pointy eared bastards are planning something.” Fíli rolled his eyes as the older dwarf’s prejudices, it wasn’t likely anything that sinister if they had anything besides a feast planned at all.

“Will Thorin be joining us soon?” Bilbo asked, he seemed a bit nervous, he kept fiddling with his jacket, and adjusting his vest.

“Yes.” the elf replied, “He had some urgent business he needed to attend to first in the dungeons.” Fíli frowned, and he tried to stop the reflexive instinct to reach for one of his hidden knives, they hadn’t returned his swords back to him yet.

“The dungeon?” Bilbo said in alarm. “What is he doing there?”

“I am not sure.” Was the elf’s reply as he led them down a hall. He led them into a parlour of some sort. “Your rooms are almost ready, the king felt you would be more comfortable waiting here than in the ante-chamber though.”

“Thank you.” Balin said with a curt nod, ever the diplomat.

“Thorin Oakenshield will be with you shortly.” The elf said just before he left.

Once he was gone Fíli fell into the first chair he could find, he still felt a bit weak from the spider’s poison, but it was leaving his system. Nori was “admiring” some of the decorations on the walls, he absent mindedly wondered how much Nori would be able to take with him before the elves realized what the thief had done. He wished Thorin were here, at least then they would have an explanation of what is going on, instead of the assumptions they’re making now. Bilbo sits down in a nearby chair, he was still fiddling with every article of clothing he was wearing, trying to remove spider webs from them. Fíli snorted as he noticed the web that was tangled up in the hobbit’s honey curls, wondering if he should tell him or not. It’s more fun if he doesn’t. It’s something Kíli would most definitely do, while Ori would shake her head and politely tell Bilbo of the spiderweb in his hair, that was why she would be one of his top advisors when he was king. Would have been, he corrected himself, she would have been, and so would have Kíli, for all his immaturity he could be quite wise and open to others. He had always been proud to be called Kíli’s brother. It still was painful to think about them, the pain had not subsided in his chest from when he first saw them fall, he just tried not to think about it as much. Gold could not be put back in the ground.

The door opened slowly, and Thorin stepped inside, he smiled at them all, and took a deep breath. “They’re alive.” If Fíli hadn’t been sitting down, he wasn’t sure his knees would have been able to remain upright as the door flew open and Kíli ran into the room.

“Naddith.” Fíli whispered, taking his little brother into his arms. “Naddith.” He peppered Kíli’s faces with kisses, he had thought he was dead, he had thought he would live the rest of his life without his brother at his side. “You’re alive.” He looked up as he heard Nori’s cry, the thief all but flung himself into Dwalin’s arms, the bigger dwarf lifted the much slimmer dwarf up and cradled him, laughing. Bofur and Bombur were entering the room now, Bifur running straight to them.

“Let me go, Fíli, you’re going to crush me to death.” Kíli protested. Fíli released him from his embrace and watched as Ori entered the room, she was talking with a much taller red haired elf that suddenly Kíli was grabbing his hand and urging them towards them.

“Fíli.” Ori said running into his arms, her beads clanking slightly. “I missed you.” she whispered.

“I thought you were dead.” He whispered. “I thought I had lost you.” She shook her head and kissed his cheeks.

“I know.” She whispered back. “Thorin told us.” He pressed his lips to hers, savoring the way her lips felt against his, he thought he would never feel this again. Not until Mahal called him home too. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He heard Dori clearing his throat, and he reluctantly let her go. “Your brothers missed you too.” She half smiled at him and nodded, pecking his nose before going over to talk to Dori. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but was soon distracted by Kíli and his introductions to Kíli’s friend and the Captain of the Guard, Tauriel, who was also one of the elves who captured them.

The pains that had weighed him down were suddenly gone as soon as he saw them both alive. He was so very glad that Thorin had prevented him from doing anything really stupid, so very glad he got to be here for this moment. He never wanted to experience anything like that ever again, the pain he had felt, the wishfulness of death, the agony of having to wake up everyday and know that they weren’t there. They were his most precious things in the world, Kíli, Ori, Amad, Uncle Thorin, and Uncle Bilbo, and he would never let any harm come to them. Never.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note (The part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): So this is my first work for the Hobbit and my first prompt meme fill. There was another story, small short one, that also filled this prompt and I read it to make sure that we were not pretty much writing the same thing. We're not. Mine's longer. I really hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Re-edit 1/25/15: I am editing this work, this chapter got mostly spell checks, and minor changes. A sentence added in or taken in out here and there that were repetitive or weren't needed. I am hoping to edit all chapters of this work, before continuing on with it.


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